


Hannibal: Meeting the Monster

by DragonSlayer2526



Series: Hannibal: Loving a Monster [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Clarice Starling-freedom, Explicit Language, F/M, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Hannibal, Protective Hannibal, Psychological Trauma, Serial Killers, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow build Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling, Strong Female Characters, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 05:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 131,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9369497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonSlayer2526/pseuds/DragonSlayer2526
Summary: Being one of fifteen top students of the F.B.I academy is hard enough but being the protege and assistant to Will Graham is even harder, yet Clarice Starling takes great pride and admiration in her task and maybe a little joy. A young woman of twenty, Clarice is driven by curiosity and an very active imagination but under her sharp tongue and razor wit she hides childhood trauma.So when Jack Crawford brought in Will to help him to get into the minds of the killers, Will brought Clarice with him, revealing that she is the only person who can ground him into reality.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> She gives a lot, but not everything. Most important to remember is this: it's a mistake to assume Clarice is weak, but it's also a mistake to assume she is strong. She is both. The message is: don't push her beyond her limits, because although it might appear that she has none, she does draw the line at some point. Everyone should avoid taking advantage of her good nature and willingness to make sacrifices. She sees her willingness to forgive and understand as a strength, and others should too.
> 
> The title of the story was inspired by 'I'm In Love With a Monster' by Fifth Harmony...yeah, it's light compared to the Hannibal TV series but yeah, it fits xD
> 
> Clarice's baby http://carswithmuscles.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/drt5.jpg

**Prologue**

 White covered in blood...and the screaming of children...

With a loud, almost choking gasp, Clarice Starling shot up from her bed covered in sweat that made her white tank top and pajama bottoms cling to her body like a second skin. Her breasts heaved with each breath she took as she looked around with unfocused eyes but soon they became to become clear and focus as sleep slowly loses its hold on her... More like the nightmare that had awoken her lost its hold on her. And she realized that she had been trapped in the nightmare all through the night because she can see the light of dawn slowly entering her dark room.

Damn, when will she ever sleep at night without that nightmare waking her up?

A smirk curls her lips up, not a nightmare it was a memory, a terrible one that she will never get away from. With a sigh, she flung off the blanket and sheet before she stood up and padded over to her bathroom. She flicked the bathroom light on and turned on the faucet, splashing her face with the cold water before she braced herself on the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

Messy black hair and dark circles under her blue eyes, yeah her mentor will totally notice that she hadn't been sleeping again and will question it...not that she keeps anything from him but still, she was too old to be having nightmares for Pete's sake!

She needed coffee, yeah coffee will help settle her nerves.

Clarice took a quick shower and got dressed before she slipped into her leather jacket and said good-bye to her moody black cat, Salem, she walked down the stairs where she grabbed her car keys off the small table near the door, she stepped out the door and locked it before she walked over to her black 1969 Dodge Charger RT that was parked in her driveway. She unlocked it and climbed into the driver seat, she turned on the engine and drives to the coffee house that was down the block from her house. Once she got there, she parked and climbed out of her car and locks it (it was expensive getting it fixed up and she didn't want someone stealing it) before walking away. She walked into the coffee house and got in line, tucking her hands in her tan leather jacket as she waited in line.

She looked around as she waited, seeing many people sitting down and drinking coffee as they chatted with their friends she won't be able to sit down. Clarice pulled out her black iPhone and clicked the screen before she sends a text to her mentor, telling him that she would be a little late because of the line at the coffee house and if he wanted anything. She lowered her cellphone and looked around once more, her nose twitching when she caught the scent of very nice cologne coming from the man standing behind her but before she could say anything her cellphone chimes and she clicked the screen and read the message from her mentor.

_'No but thank you anyways...I'll see you when you get to class, Clarice.'_

Clarice rolled her eyes and shoved her cellphone back in her pocket as she steps up to the cashier and said, "Medium Cafe Mocha, please... Extra whip." She needed to get to class, after she changed into her uniform of course, she should have been in it before leaving her apartment.

She paid for her drink and stepped away as she puts her wallet in her back pocket.

"Excuse me, miss?" asked a very sexy deep, velvety, yet raspy voice, a Lithuanian accent, from behind her and Clarice looked over her shoulder and felt her mouth dropping open and her eyes widen at the sight of the man by her side, having to look up of course due to his six foot in height, towering over her five foot and six inch frame.

His face was beautiful in a cold, symmetrical, strange and compelling way, hinting at northern origins. His features seemed to be chiseled in alabaster, lean, and regal and precise, betraying wisdom and knife-sharp intelligence. He has high, pronounced cheekbones and the straight, narrow nose emanated refinement and quiet determination. His mouth, enhanced by the pointed chin, seemed even more compelling, because of its sensuous, yet somehow cruel lips, that reveal white, even teeth when she caught a flash of them. The skin, although holding a charming olive hue, held some rough lines of a skin brushed by the cold winds of the unforgiving Baltic Sea.

He has sandy brown, thick hair was neatly combed to enhance the wide forehead, complimented by prominent arcades that cast the fascinating, deep set hazel eyes into a veil of obscurity. The man's body reflected the same enduring beauty of the unique breed that were the northern men, with their tall, lean, yet strong and muscular bodies, wide in shoulders, slim in waist and long in limbs, formidable creatures that competed with the harshness of their motherland, graceful in their native, muted savagery.

And Clarice would know since she had traveling into those countries with her adopted socialite British mother when she had traveled there and saw the men and boys there, leaving her with a fondness for the north, especially the men of Lithuania.

Clarice snapped out of her thoughts when he held out a handkerchief at her.

"Now why do I have a feeling that you're going to ask me if that handkerchief smells like chloroform to me?" She moved her eyes up to his face to catch a frown on his lips. "Sorry, bad joke now what can I do for you?" 

"You dropped this, miss."

She made a 'o' with her lips, no wonder it looked familiar! Her birth mother had made it for her before she passed away, whoops. Clarice looked up at him once more (now he looked amused) and blushed as she takes it with a mumbled, "Thank you." Her order was called and she darted over, picking up her drink before walking out not making eye contact with the man. Clarice made a note to always think before she opens her mouth and prays to God that she never sees that man again even though she found him attractive, after what she had said to him she wouldn't blame _him_ if he never wanted to see _her_ again as well.

\-------- 

Hannibal caught the scent of Evyan skin cream and L’Air du Temps and realized that it was coming from the woman as she walked away and then passed him on her way to the door. He turned around to watch her leave, to examine her more closely since she was refusing to look at him so it gave him freedom to look at her more closely. Most likely embarrassed and she regretted what she had said to him.

Good because he hated rude people.

She had an exquisite, delicate, oval-shaped face with a definitive jaw line and accentuated cheekbones when she had been looking at him. She was an exceptional beautiful young woman of twenty years of age, and that beautiful southern accented voice, a soft feminine lilting honey magnolia one that he heard when she first spoke. She had beautifully flawless and smooth skin that had a fair complexion.

She had thick curly black hair and blue eyes that were the color of the sky on a clear day, and full lips that looked soft to the touch. He had to made his free hand into a fist when she had turned towards him because he had wanted to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

The woman had an lithe, firm build yet didn't lack feminine curves, she has wide yet slender shoulders, and ample yet firm and soft breasts that was covered by a white dress shirt that have several buttons at the top that was under a tan leather jacket, full hips, and thighs; slim waist, and long, shapely legs. She also has a well-defined butt and long, tapering legs with toned muscles that was covered and hugged by tight denim jeans and boots. 

She was a lovely little thing and he wanted to see her again...

It was a shame that he didn't get her name though.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FBI Special Investigator Will Graham, who is haunted by his ability to empathize with serial killers and mentally re-create their crimes with vivid detail, is drawn into the investigation of a series of missing college girls by Special Agent Jack Crawford, who has special interest in Will's ability. Will makes a request that his protege, who is also his anchor and an FBI Trainee, assists him on this case. Enter Clarice Starling, a young woman who also can empathize with serial killers, as well as empathize with the victims themselves.
> 
> Jack, by recommendation of Dr. Alana Bloom, enlists the help of noted psychiatrist Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who takes a keen interest in the case and particularly in Will, in whom he senses a like mind, and Clarice, who's power of empathizing is barely blossoming open, much like an Lotus flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarice's accent in the same as Rogue from the X-Men the Animated Series and Rogue from X-Men Evolution.
> 
> Best way to describe Clarice since she's a small town girl from Barboursville, Cabell County, West Virginia:  
> http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lexi-herrick/13-reasons-to-date-a-girl-from-a-small-town_b_7789908.html
> 
> And instead of the blonde doctor lady going with Hannibal to Italy and pretending to be married to him, I am going to have it be Clarice but she was kidnapped instead.

**Apéritif Part 1**

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - QUANTICO, VIRGINIA**

"I shot Mr. Marlow twice, severing jugulars and carotids with near-surgical precision. He will die watching me take what is his away from him. This is my design." Will Graham told his class as he paced behind his desk and lecture stand. "I shot Mrs. Marlow expertly through the neck. This is not a fatal wound. The bullet misses every artery. She is paralyzed before it leaves her body. Which doesn’t mean she can’t feel pain. It just means she can’t do anything about it. This is my design."

Clarice was writing in her notebook as Will talked, looking up every once in a while to look at the pictures that Will had on the screen above and behind him before she looks back down and write what he had to say about it. Her black hair was pulled up into a high ponytail so that it wouldn't get in her way as she wrote. Her blue eyes followed what she written and then when she looked up, they scanned over the images.

Will noticed a stocky, tall African American man walking into his classroom as he talks to his students, he was wary that the man would interrupt his lecture but he didn't, instead he crossed his arms over his chest and listened to Will give his lecture. Clarice also noticed him but she barely even spared him a glance as she went back to listening to Will and taking notes.

"And this is when it gets truly horrifying for Mrs. Marlow." He flipped the picture to a bloody Mrs. Marlow and addressed the class. "Everyone has thought about killing someone, one way or another, be it your own hand or the hand of God. Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow. Why did she deserve this?" Will continued as he started to pack things up and the class got ready to leave. "Tell me your design. Tell me who you are."

There are scattered smitten glances tossed Will Graham’s direction, who is naturally oblivious because he is actively avoiding eye contact with everyone, even as he warns his exiting students, "The sad, dull truth of these crimes is they can usually be reduced to a male penetrative control issue. I am expecting a higher level of scrutiny."

Clarice looked back at him when she was leaving with the rest of his students but Will motioned that it was alright so she continued to walk as she went to talk to some of her classmates.

"Mr. Graham." The man said, holding his hand out for Will to shake. Will quickly puts on a pair of glasses as Jack approaches, the top rim of Will's glasses are strategically positioned to block Jack's eyes and prevent direct eye-contact. "I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford. I lead the Behavioral Science Unit."

"We’ve met." Will said.

Jack knows full well they’ve met but didn’t intend to broach.

"Yes, we had a disagreement about the museum when we opened it." Jack said.

"I disagreed with what you named it." Will corrected him.

"The Evil Minds Research Museum?" Jack asked, rubbing his chin.

Will stated with a small smile, "It’s a little hammy, Jack."

Jack liked Will’s directness and returned the favor, "You’ve hitched your horse to a teaching post. I understand it’s not easy for you to be sociable."

"I’m just talking at them. I’m not listening to them. It’s not social. " Will said Clarice was the only one who talked to him and who he listened to since she was his student and protege.

Jack gently pushed Will’s glasses up the bridge of his nose so he’s forced to make fleeting eye contact.

"Where do you fall on the spectrum?" Jack asked.

Will picked up the rhythm and syntax of Jack’s voice as he said, "My horse is hitched to a post closer to Aspergers and Autistics than narcissists and sociopaths."

"But you can empathize with narcissists and sociopaths." Jack stated.

"I can empathize with anybody. Less to do with personality disorders than an active imagination." Will corrected him.

Jack smiled at that, leaned in, then asked, "Can I borrow your imagination?"

Will looked at him, suspiciously as he asked, "It will depend on what you need my imagination for?"

"For a case." Jack answered.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack was leading Will across a field of trainees on a firing range as another group of trainees in matching sweats jogs by.

"Eight girls abducted from eight different Minnesota campuses, all in the last eight months." Jack told Will.

"I thought there were seven." Will stated, looking at Jack as he followed him back to his desk.

"There were." Jack said as he walked.

Will asked him, "When did you tag the eighth?"

Jack said as he looked at him, "About three minutes before I walked into your lecture hall."

"You’re calling them abductions because you don’t have any bodies?" Will asked, as he sat down.

Jack shook his his head and said, "No bodies, no parts of bodies, nothing that comes out of bodies. Nothing."

Will looked back at the board and said, "Then those girls weren’t taken from where you think they were taken."

Jack asked him, "Then where were they taken from?"

Will shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don’t know. Someplace else."

"All of them abducted on a Friday so they wouldn’t have to be reported missing until Monday," Jack said. "Now, however he’s covering his tracks, he needs a weekend to do it."

Will looked at him and asked, "Number eight?"

Jack said, reading the missing girl's file, "Elise Nichols. St. Cloud State on the Mississippi. Disappeared on Friday. Was supposed to house sit for her parents over the weekend, feed the cat. She never made it home."

Will stated, standing up and going back to the board, "Yeah, one through seven are dead, don’t you think? He’s not keeping them around. He got himself a new one."

Jack nodded his head and said, "So we focus on Elise Nichols."

"They’re all very, um Mall of America. That’s a lot of wind-chafed skin." Will commented, as he started to noticed the similarities between the girls.

Jack  nod his head, agreeing and said, "Same hair color, same eye color. Roughly the same age. Same height, same weight. So what is it about all of these girls?"

"It’s not about all of these girls. It’s just about one of them," Will corrected, "He’s like Willy Wonka. Every girl he takes is a candy bar, and hidden in amongst all of those candy bars is the one true intended victim, which, if we follow through on our metaphor, is your golden ticket."

Jack said as he looked at the board, "So, is he warming up for his golden ticket, or just reliving whatever it is he did to her?"

Will shaking his head and said, "The golden ticket wouldn’t be the first taken, and she wouldn’t be the last. He would, um, hide how special she was. I mean, I would. Wouldn’t you?"

Jack stated, causing the man to look at him, "I want you to get closer to this."

Will was quick to turn him down and said, "No. You have Heimlich at Harvard and Bloom at Georgetown. They do the same thing I do."

"That’s not exactly true, is it?" Jack corrected him, "You have a very specific way of thinking about things."

"Has there been a lot of discussion about the, uh, specific way – I think?" Will asked.

"You make jumps you can’t explain, Will."

"No, no. The evidence explains."

"Then help me find some evidences." Jack requested of him.

"That may require me to be sociable," Will said. He remembered a certain young woman who would demand that she would be brought into this case as his assistant and of course being a student she would want to see her mentor in action and wanted to learn a thing or two. "I actually have a small request, Agent Crawford. "

Jack arched a brow at him and asked, "A request? So soon? What is it?"

Will took out a folder and handed it to Jack, saying, "I would like her to join me on this case."

"Clarice Starling?" Jack read the name on the file, he looked up at Will with an raised brow. He looked at the photo of this Clarice Starling, she was young and didn't look like she was meant for this type of work. "What is she to you?" He vaguely remembered seeing a woman that looked like her pausing to look back at Will as she was leaving the class.

"My protege," Will said. "She can empathize with serial killers but we both learned that she can empathize with the victims themselves as well though the latter isn't something she likes to use very often."

Jack looked up at him with a puzzled expression on his face and asked, "How did you two figure that out?"

Will sighed as he recalled the incident and said, "Clarice was walking home when she stumbled upon the body of a dead child. She had told me that she had entered in a trance like state and entered the mind of the child, and she saw everything through the child's eyes and felt everything that the child had felt." He paused before he continued. "When she snapped to, Clarice called me and told what happened. She was pretty shaken up about it."

"Was the child's death murder or accident?" Jack asked.

"Accident," Will answered him. "He had fallen off a tree and died instantly. We both had to tell the parents, though Clarice was shaken up by it."

Jack slowly nodded his head, thinking, and said, "Very well, I'm going to allow her to assist you on this case. But if you are unable to get into this killer's mind, I'll be force to use her empathy ability as well."

Will nodded his after a brief silent pause, agreeing silently to Jack's request. He knew this was the only way for Clarice to gain better control of her empathy and use it to help her on her future cases as a FBI Agent. Though Will really didn't want Clarice to be thrown into a case when it involves girls around her age or younger.

Jack nods his head and said, "Call her and tell her to report to the Nichols in a few hours." Jack turned and walked away, leaving Will to stare after him.

Will sighed as he pulled out his cell phone and pulled out his contracts. He tapped on Clarice's profile and her picture came up, he clicked the call image and put the phone against his ear, listening to the ringing on the other end, waiting for her to answer the phone.

"Hey, Will," answered a soft feminine lilting honey magnolia accent, a southern voice, breathless and smoky. "What do you need of me?"

"Nothing," Will said. "But you've been giving permission in helping me with a case I'm on with the FBI, Clarice."

Clarice's surprise sounded in her voice, he could picture her eyes widening as well. "Really? How did you manage that?

"Agent Crawford wanted me on the case and I wanted you on the case as well," Will told her. "So I'm expecting you to be at the Nichols resident within the hour."

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Will." Clarice said.

Will said as he walked out of the classroom, "And make sure you call me Professor Graham."

Clarice's throaty chuckle was the first thing he heard before she said, "Don't worry, Professor, I know how to behave professionally in public."

With that, she hanged up, leaving Will to his thoughts at her playful words. He shook his head as he smiled. She was an up and coming FBI Agent but there were times where she didn't act like one and certainly didn't treat Will as her mentor, more like a pesky older brother hence why she refers to him by his first name when they are alone. There was a time where she had treated him as a romantic interest but she seemed to have out grown that and went to older brother with him.

Will headed towards his car, preparing his heart and mind for the next few hours.

**Baltimore, Maryland.**

Clarice drove towards the Nichols residents (directions given to her by her ever-so-thoughtful Professor Will Graham), she recalled all the information that she had read up on the case. It didn't take long for Clarice to note the similar appearance between all the girls, it would take a blind person not to notice that Clarice had told herself as she drove.

Clarice parked her car in front of the Nichols resident and spotted Jack and Will waiting for her on the porch, she climbed out of the classic muscle car. She grabbed her satchel bag and walked over to them. She was wearing a black button up dress with a dark brown leather jacket, dark denim skinny jeans and black high heels.

Jack had his arms crossed as he addressed her, "I read your files, Ms. Starling."

Clarice inwardly grimaced as she said, "I see...files, the bane of anyone who doesn't want to remember their childhood. So you know about that...wonderful." She hated people learning about her childhood, it wasn't great but what she had hated was when they looked at her with pity. She knew her childhood was terrible, she didn't need them to rub it in either...like rubbing salt into an open wound.

"Yes, but that won't be a problem, Ms. Starling," Jack assured her. "As long as you are able to do your job."

"Yes, sir." Clarice said.

Jack turned and walked in with Will and Clarice following after him though the young woman was lost in her thoughts. She sighed as she remembered that she had to be truthful to the Agent when she had enrolled in the academy though she hadn't fully gone into detail about her entire childhood until she was adopted by a British woman when she was thirteen, Clarice could tell that Jack Crawford was wondering about the other missing details of her childhood back home and with her uncle. Not that Clarice ever planned to go into detail about that incident, she'll tell him about her father but other than that, nope, she's going to keep her mouth shut and not say a damn word about it. It was still fresh in her memory, she still had nightmares about it.

Clarice was born and raised in Barboursville, Cabell County, West Virginia with her father, who had been a police officer. Her mother had passed away from bone cancer when she was three so it had been her father who took care of her until his death, Clarice could barely remember her mother. When she was ten years old, her father was shot when responding to a robbery; he died a month after the incident. Clarice had then been sent to live with her uncle on a Montana sheep and horse farm from which she briefly ran away in horror when she witnessed the spring lambs being slaughtered, but not before taking one of them in an failed attempt to rescue it from its future death. Than she spent most of her childhood in a Lutheran orphanage, her uncle had sent her away after her stunt with the lamb.

But Clarice was adopted at the age of thirteen by an sophisticated British woman, Danielle Darby, and the older woman and her husband had given Clarice a sense of home, not since her father had passed away and her living in the orphanage. But Clarice still have terrible nightmares of the screaming of the lambs, sounding so very much like children to her. And there was nothing Danielle or husband, or even her butler, James, could do about it.

Jack's voice dragged Clarice from her morbid thoughts and noticed that he was shaking hands with Elise's parents, "I'm Agent Jack Crawford. This is Will Graham and Trainee Agent Clarice Starling." Clarice and Will shook Mr. and Mrs. Nichols hands, the young woman smiled at them. Jack and the couple sat at the couple while Clarice and Will reminded standing.

Mr. Nichols spoke up, "She could’ve gone off by herself. She...she was a very interior young woman. She didn’t like living in her dorm. I could see how the pressure of school might have gotten to her. She likes trains. Maybe she just got on a train and..."

Mrs. Nichols interrupted her husband, "…She looks like the other girls."

"Yes, she fits the profile." Jack told her, Clarice inwardly winced, she hated it when victims looked like each other and therefore fit a profile...so many deaths.

"Could Elise still be alive?" Mr. Nichols asked, hope clearly heard in his voice.

Jack answered his question, "We simply have no way of knowing."

Will asked, suddenly, causing Clarice to look at him, "How’s the cat?"

Mrs. Nichols frowned at his words and asked, "What?"

"How’s your cat?" Will repeated himself, Clarice looked around for the cat now. "Elise was supposed to feed it. Was the cat weird when you came home? It must’ve been hungry. It didn’t eat all weekend."

Mr. Nichols frowned as he recalled the cat and said, "I…I didn’t notice."

Jack asked them, before he stood up, "Could you give us a moment, please?"

Will waited for Jack to join him and Clarice before he whispered, "He took her from here. She got on a train, she came home, she fed the cat. He took her."

"The Nichols’ house is a crime scene. I need ERT immediately," Jack said into his phone as Clarice looked up the stairs when she heard the cat meowing. "I want Zeller, Katz, and Jimmy Price. Yes, and a photographer."

Clarice heard Mr. Nichols ask as she walked up the stairs and stopped at the landing when she saw the cat scratching at a door, "Why is it now a crime scene?"

Will asked, noticing that Clarice had already gone up stairs, "Can I see your daughter’s room?"

Mr. Nichols stood up and led Will up the stairs, Clarice step to the side to allow both men to walk passed her. Her eyes locked with Will's and darted towards the cat. Will glanced at the cat and noted it's odd behavior. He inclined his head towards her and Clarice fell into step behind him, her hands going into her pocket once more.

Mr. Nichols told them as he pushed the cat away with his foot, gently, "Polices were there this morning…"

"No–I’ll get that," Will said, stopping Mr. Nichols from opening the door. "Mr. Nichols, please put your hands in your pockets and avoid touching anything."

Mr. Nichols frowned at him and said, "But we’ve been in and out of here all day."

Will sighed as he gestured to the cat and said, "You can hold the cat, if it’s easier."

Clarice opened the door but came to a completely stop, which caused Will bump into her. Her eyes landing on the dead girl on the bed, looking like she's asleep but she could tell that she wasn't. She looked over her shoulder to see Will looking at the body as well and they both looked at Mr. Nichols who was stepping in after them.

Mr. Nichols spotting his daughter's body in bed with the cat in his arms and started to say, "Elise–"

Will turned and placed his hand on the man's chest, stopping him from going to his daughter and said, "I need you to leave the room."

Clarice watched as Mr. Nichols frowned down at Will, confused by his words, until he looked back up at his daughter and gave a choked sob when he realized that she hadn't moved when they had walked into her room, and now realizing that his little girl was dead. She felt her chest tighten at the sound, she understood his pain first when her mother died and then her father.

Will looked at Clarice and said, "Can you take him back downstairs and get Agent Crawford?"

"Yes, Professor Graham," Clarice took his arm and led him back downstairs with a gently but firm grip on his arm. Jack looked up at Clarice as she stepped down the stairs with an upset Mr. Nichols. "Will wants you upstairs, Agent Crawford."

Jack nodded his head, and told the Nichols to go outside and stay there before he followed Clarice up the stairs, "What's going on?"

Clarice glanced at him over her shoulders and said, "You won't believe me even if I told you, so I'm going to show you." She motions to him to follow her.

When Jack saw that Elise Nichols was in her bed, back in her room, he almost didn't believe what he was seeing but with Will and Clarice there and their still shocked facial expressions staring at the girl's body as well, Jack knew it was true and now he wanted to know why the killer had returned her body to her home and how he did without her parents even knowing about it.

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometime later, Will stood by the window as Clarice stood slightly to the side of him, giving him room and space. He's watched as the paramedics tended to the devastated Mr. and Mrs. Nichols, Clarice had told him that Mr. Nichols had told his wife what had occurred upstairs and the woman had broken into uncontrollable sobs, her husband had to hold her up in order to keep her from falling when she had lost all her strength to remain standing.

Will could tell that Clarice was sympathizing with the parents and he didn't have the heart to tell her not to, he wanted her to keep that thoughtful and sympathetic side, it what made her genuine compare to everyone that Will is somewhat sociable with. So he doesn't really know if the years of this job would take their toll on her and she'll stop being genuinely thoughtful and sympathetic, but for now, Will will keep her as she is and he'll try his hardest to keep her like that before she becomes a full fledged FBI Agent.

"When you’re ready to talk, you talk. If you don’t feel like it, you don’t talk," Will heard Jack walked up to him and said. "We’ll be downstairs. You let me know when you’re ready for us to come in."

Will turned to face the bed and saw that Clarice was watching Jack leave the room before she walked over and closed the door behind him. He watched her walked back to him, her hips gently swaying with each step she took back to him. She came to stand by his side and cocked her head at him. Will sighed and tapped his forehead against her shoulder, answering her silent concern over him. Clarice smiled and step back from him, he felt her gaze on him as Will took a deep breath and closed his eyes, entering the mind of the killer.

Clarice watched as Will took a deep breath and closed his eyes, she knew that Will had fully entered the mind of the killer, now empathizing with killer. She could enter the killer's mind as well but he had told her not to when she had called him and asked if she was going help him on empathizing with the killer or was he going to do it solo. Clarice didn't understand why he didn't want to when he had told her that he was going to teach her how to properly use her empathy talents but now that she's seen the victim better other than looking at a photo, Clarice noticed that she and the victims were close to each other's age than she had originally thought, and it had unnerved her just a little.

Beverly Katz's voice startled both Will and Clarice out of their respected mind frames, "You’re Will Graham."

Clarice muttered as she got over her surprised, "I hate you so much, Bev."

Will mumbled, looking slightly dazed and uncomfortable, "You’re not supposed to be in here."

Beverly playfully ignored Clarice's comment as she addressed Will, "You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity."

"Do you even believe in making sounds, Bev?" Clarice asked. "That's the third time you startled me and I'll be putting a bell on you now."

"Then maybe you shouldn't be daydreaming." Beverly told her with a smile.

Clarice choose to ignore that by asking, "What are you doing in here anyway?"

"I found antler velvet in two of the wounds," Beverly answered her then asking Will. "You, uh, not real FBI?"

Will answered her while he looked at Clarice and gestured towards her bag, his silent question if she has aspirin, which she did...always carried a bottle for two reasons: reason 1.) because she gets headaches because of her studies and reason 2) because Will gets headaches when he thinks like a serial killer, "I’m a special investigator."

Beverly asked as Clarice went to her bag and looked through it, looking for the small bottle of aspirin that she carries for him and herself, "Never been an FBI agent?"

"Um strict – screening procedures." Will told her, with a slightly discomfort about the question. It was kind of cute but Clarice did feel bad for him, he hated socializing with people. The only reason why he even socialized with her was because she was his student and needed to learn, that and she liked learning new things so it had actually been Clarice that went up to him first because she wanted to talk to him and he sure wasn't going to make the first move. She refused to take no for an answer and didn't 

"Detects instability," Beverly stated, before asking him bluntly. "You unstable?"

Clarice looked at her friend and said, "And you say I'm blunt."

Jack walked in with Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price following after him and said, "Now, you know you’re not supposed to be in here."

"I found antler velvet in two of the wounds, like she was gored," Beverly told him as she looked at the body, then pointing towards Will as she continued. "I was looking for velvet in the other wounds – but I was interrupted."

Clarice frowned at her and said, "More like you interrupted us, Bev, not the other way around." Then she goes back to rummaging through her bag.

"Hold on, excuse me. Look, deer and elk pin their prey, OK?" Brian interrupted before Beverly could retort, which caused both women to look at him. "They put all their weight into their antlers, try and suffocate a victim. That’s how they would kill, like, a fox or a coyote." Clarice rolled her eyes before she goes back to looking through her bag.

Clarice commented from her continuous search of the playing-hard-to-get aspirin bottle seriously though she had men who didn't play this hard to get and now she was having a hard time with an object, "Actually male deer and elk have been known to kill humans just like that. But that usually happens during the mating season so avoid mating season when it comes to them."

Brian looked at her and asked, "And how would you know?"

Jimmy interrupted before Clarice could answer him, "Because she's a small town girl from West Virginia where they make hunting deer an artform, so I think she would know or thing or two about male deer killing hunters during mating season."

Clarice nodded her head and said, "And that's that!"

Jack spoke up, drawing everyone's attention to him, "All right, Elise Nichols was strangled, suffocated, her ribs are broken."

Will told him, as he watched Clarice search for that aspirin bottle, "Antler velvet is rich in nutrients. It actually promotes healing. He may have put it in there on purpose."

"You think he was trying to heal her?" Jack asked as Clarice was fighting the temptation of dumping everything in her bag onto the floor so she could find that damn bottle.

"He wanted to undo as much as he could given that he’d already killed her." Will answered him.

Jack stated as he looked back at the body of the bed, "He put her back where he found her."

Will commented at that, "Whatever he did to the others, he couldn’t do it to her."

"Is this his golden ticket?" Jack asked, Clarice raised her head up and looked at Will with a frown at his Willy Wonka reference. The Professor shake his head at her, silently telling her to wait until later to ask why Willy Wonka references were being used.

"No. This is an apology," Will corrected him, "Does anyone have any aspirin?"

"Ah-Ha! I found it," Clarice shouted with triumph, taking the aspirin out of her bag. "Thought you could hide from me. And I was looking for it so you could have been more patience, Professor...patience is a virtue and it's one of the things that God would willingly give you if you pray for it."

Will held out his hand for the bottle, Clarice placed it on his palm, and said, "I think you should organize your Mary Poppins's bag."

Clarice looked at her satchel bag and said, "It's not like Mary Poppins's bag at all."

Will rolled his eyes as he popped two pills into his mouth and swallowed. He handed her back the bottle and Clarice took it from him and threw it back into her bag. Jack gestured for them to leave now, and Clarice and Will walked out of the bedroom. She grabbed his arm and pulled him into the empty living room.

Clarice placed her hands on her hips and said, "Alright, what's with the Willy Wonka reference?"

Will sighed as he told her, "The killer is like Willy Wonka. Every girl he takes is a candy bar, and hidden in amongst all of those candy bars is the one true intended victim is our golden ticket."

"And now I'm going burn my Willy Wonka DVD when I get home." Clarice mumbled as she rubbed her temple.

"Don't go burning the DVD because we made a Willy Wonka reference." Will told her.

Clarice shake her head and said, "Nah, I hate that movie anyway. Now I have a excuse to burn it...traumatized me as a child, especially that damn boat scene." She shuddered at the mere mention of it, gah whoever thought that scene should have been made into the film really needed to get their head examined...and they needed professional help.

Will groaned as he rubbed his hand down his face and said, "I don't want to be blamed for you burning that DVD."

"You wouldn't, I promise."

**Wolf Trap, Virginia.**

Will was on his way home when he noticed a dog running alongside the road. He slowed the car down and rolled down his window, leaning his head out. "Hello." He parked the car and got out, holding out his hand to the dog, only for it to ran off. "Hey!…Hey! Hey. Hey."

Will got into his car and drove towards a local meat market, and bought some meat. He drove back and found the dog still in the same spot. Will climbed out of the car and open the truck, sitting on the edge of it. Will started calling the dog, holding some meat in his hand. "Come on. Come on. Hey. Hey, come here. Hey." The dog walked towards him and started to eat from his hand, trusting him not to hurt him now.

Will bribed the dog into the backseat of his car, and closed the door once he had gotten into the car. He got in behind the wheel and headed towards the direction of his house. Once he got home, Will carried the dog onto the front porch and started to bathe him there. The dog wasn't exactly thrilled to be given a bath but he remained perfectly still for him.

"Winston, this is everybody," Will said once the dog was dried, feed and placed in the kettle and the rest of his dogs on the porch with them. "Everybody, this is Winston." One of the dogs barked and Will looked back at them. "Tss! Tss! That’s right."

Will sat down and took a sip of his coffee, one of his dogs came over and licked his hand. Will stroked his fur as he continued to drink from his coffee, enjoying the quiet night and the company of his dogs.

**Clarice's Brick House**

Clarice was getting ready for bed, having taken her second shower after eating dinner...she had developed a habit of bathing in the morning when she gets up and then again after dinner, it was a lot better than to develop badder habits because of her dreams. Not that the shower before bed helps because she still gets the nightmares but it helps relax her before she gets to bed, the ritual of cleaning herself helped her mind and then so did ritual afterwards.

She slips into her sleep shirt, it was a man's dress shirt that she had bought to sleep in. Clarice doesn't own a single women sleepwear, preferring to sleep in the roomy dress shirt of a man's. She picks up Salem when he comes meowing into the room after he finishes his own meal, she tosses him gently onto the bed before she turns the covers down and crawls into bed as well. Stroking Salem when he climbs onto the pillow next to her and curls on top of it, purring. Clarice kept petting Salem as she slowly started to slip into a deep slumber.

Her hand stops in mid-stroke down the cat's side.

**Morning.**

Jack walked into the men's room of the academy where Will was washing his hands and said, "What are you doing in here?"

Will looked at him and said, "I enjoy the smell of urinal cake."

"Me too. We need to talk," Jack told him, but just as a man walked into the bathroom, he turned to the man and shouted. "USE THE LADIES’ ROOM!" Once the man had walked out of the bathroom, Jack turned to Will, asking. "You respect my judgment, Will? Mm-hmm."

Will briefly paused before he answered, "Yes."

Jack looked pleased as he said, "Good, because we will stand a better chance of catching this guy with you in the saddle."

"Yeah, I’m in the saddle," Will said. "I’m just, um, confused which direction I’m pointing. I don’t know this kind of psychopath. I’ve never read about him. I don’t even know if he’s a psychopath. He’s not insensitive. He’s not shallow."

"You know something about him," Jack commented. "Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said, 'This is an apology'. What is he apologizing for?"

Will stated as he walked around, "He couldn’t honor her. He feels bad."

"Well, feeling bad defeats the purpose of being a psychopath, doesn’t it?" Jack stated.

"Yes! It does." Will said.

Jack asked, rising his voice just a little, "Then what kind of crazy is he?!"

Will explained that, "He couldn’t show her he loved her, so he put her corpse back where he killed it. Whatever crazy that is."

"You think he loves these girls?" Jack questioned him.

"He loves one of them," Will answered him. "A-And, yes, I think by association he has some form of love for the others."

"There was no semen, there was no saliva," Jack stated. "Elise Nichols died a virgin. She stayed that way."

"That’s not how he’s loving them," Will told him. "He wouldn’t disrespect them that way! He doesn’t want these girls to suffer. He kills them quickly and to his thinking, with mercy."

Jack commented at that with a snort, "Sensitive psychopath. Risked getting caught so he could tuck Elise Nichols back into bed."

Will said with a nod of his head, "He has to take the next girl soon ’cause he knows he’s gonna get caught. One way or the other."

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Beverly was wiping Elise Nichols' dress for any evidence with Clarice sitting in a chair, twirling around in the seat as she waited for Will to come down and to see if Beverly found anything on the dress. "So when did you and Will met?"

"In the beginning of the school year," Clarice answered, stopping in the middle of her twirl. "And later on, I asked him to take him as his assistant and protege."

"I can see that." Beverly asked. "You can be quite aggressive when it comes to something that you want."

Clarice looked at her and nodded her head, saying, "Yeah, that's true."

Beverly nodded her head and said, "He's the perfect choice for you than, Clarice. You picked your mentor very well. I know he can help you with your empathy gift."

"It's more like a curse rather than a gift." Clarice said, as she leaned over the table to watch Beverly wipe the front of the nightgown.

"Is there anyone that you like?" Beverly commented quite randomly and had to swallow a laugh when Clarice almost fallen out of her chair. At the young woman's surprise Beverly explained. "Women of your age should be doing a lot of dating."

Clarice stared at Beverly before she asked, "I haven't thought much about dating...be weird with my 'skill'." She tried not to think about the guy she had met at the coffee house yesterday morning. "I might start analyzing them and all that jazz."

Beverly gave her a pointed look as if she was saying 'Really?' as if she didn't believe her at all, in response Clarice just shrugged her shoulders.

They both heard something hitting the table and they looked down and saw a metal piece on the surface of the table. Clarice looked at Beverly as the Asian woman started to smile and grab a set of tweezers.

Beverly picked it up and looked at it, "I got you."

"Yeah, Bev, talk to the object as if it can talk back." Clarice quipped as she looked at what Beverly was holding in the tweezers.

Beverly good naturedly swatted at the other woman, causing her to laugh out loud.

**Elsewhere.**

Jack was walking side by side at the FBI academy with Doctor Alana Bloom, outside, as professors and students walking passed them or in front of them.

Jack said to her as he walked next to her, "Graham likes you. Doesn’t think you’ll run any mind games on him."

Alana shook her head and said, "I don’t. I’m as honest with him as I’d be with a patient."

"You’ve been observing him while you’ve been guest lecturing here at the academy, yes?" Jack asked her, looking at her.

"I’ve never been in a room alone with Will." Alana told him honestly.

Jack asked her, "Why not?"

"Because I want to be his friend, and I am." Alana answered him.

"Ah, it seems a shame not to take advantage and academically speaking." Jack said.

"You already asked me to do a study on him, Jack," Alana said, stopping which made Jack stop as well. "I said no. And anything scholarly on Will Graham would have to be published posthumously."

"So you’ve never been alone with him because you have a professional curiosity about him." Jack stated.

"Normally I wouldn’t even broach this, but what do you think one of Will’s strongest drives is?" Alana asked.

Jack answered without even thinking about it and said, "Fear."

Alana hummed her approval and said, "Mmhmm."

"Will Graham deals with huge amounts of fear," Jack said to her. "It comes with his imagination."

"It’s the price of imagination." Alana told him.

"Alana, I wouldn’t put him out there if I didn’t think I could cover him," Jack reassured her. "All right, if I didn’t think I could cover him 80%."

Alana said to him, "I wouldn’t put him out there."

"He’s out there. I need him out there," Jack said. "Should he get too close, I need you to make sure he’s not out there alone." Than he remembered Clarice and her having the same talents as Will. "What about Clarice Starling?"

"Ah, Ms. Clarice Starling," Alana said with a mirthless laugh. "She and I have an understanding. I don't try to tell her how to use her empathy and who should teach her how to use it and she doesn't make my teaching here a living hell."

Jack asked with an raised brow, "When did this happened?"

Alana sighed and said, "When I told her that Will shouldn't be teaching her how to use her empathy when he can't seem to get stable after using his."

"I have a feeling that didn't go over so well with her," Jack commented. "From what I've heard, she's got quite a temper and sharp tongue on her."

"Yes, and I got the first hand of it," Alana told him. "She told me to mind my own business and that Will was the best choice to teach her how to use her empathy."

Jack frowned at that and said, "That doesn't sound like she had unleashed her temper and tongue on you."

"That was the clean version of it," Alana smiled, than she became serious. "Promise me something, Jack. Don’t let him get too close."

"He won’t …" Jack promised her. "Get too close."

**Coroner/Lab.**

Clarice stood next to Will as they all stood around the body of Elise Nichols on the examination table. She was standing pretty close to Will, so that their arms were touching. Beverly had to bite back a smile as she noticed that Will had unconsciously moved closer to Clarice, it was easy to misunderstand that those two are in a romantic relationship together because of how often they are seen standing so close together but to Beverly it was obvious to see that they had a sibling relationship and he seeked out her presence whenever the young woman was around. Though in public they tried to act as mentor and student.

"Okay. Tried her skin for prints of course nothing," Jimmy said. "We did get a hand spread off her neck."

Beverly asked as she crossed her arms over her chest, "Report say anything about nails?"

"Fingernails were smudged when we took the scrapings." Brian said, shaking his head. "The scrapings were from her own palms when she scratched them. She never scratched him."

Clarice frowned at that and asked, "Then was she tied up?"

Will looked down at her, whispering near her ear, "There wasn't any rope marks on her wrists."

"Piece of metal is all we got," Beverly sighed.

Will spoke up, causing the three to look at him, "We should be looking at plumbers, steamfitters, tool workers."

"Other injuries were probably but not conclusively post mortem," Brian commented, making Clarice think that he was purposely ignoring Will. "So not gored." She gave him the stink eye until she looks away from him to look at the body.

"She has lots of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers," Beverly corrected him. "I didn’t say the deer was responsible for putting them there."

Will grimaced as he said, after it came to him, "She was mounted on them. Like hooks. She may have been bled."

Clarice looked at him, frowning, "That's making it sound like he's just seen these girls as a piece of meat instead of human beings."

"Her liver was removed." Brian commented, looking at Jimmy and Beverly, and Clarice grimaced in disgust.

"See that?" Jimmy said, causing Clarice to look over and into the body. "He took it out, and then – yep, he put it back in."

All Brian could said was, "Huh."

Jimmy asked as he looked up, "Why would he cut it out if he’s just gonna sew it back in again?"

Will asked as Clarice grimaced and turned around, placing her hand on her hip while the other went over her mouth, "Something wrong with the meat?"

Brian checked and looked at them in shock, "She has liver cancer."

Will stated as he wrap his arm around Clarice's shoulder, "He’s, um he’s eating them."

Clarice mumbled into her palm, "And now I'm officially off meat after this case." Ugh, cannibals were just nasty...maybe she should become a veggie lover to save herself the hassle of not eating meat for weeks after dealing with an old case of a cannibal...and in this case a new one, she wasn't going to eat meat after this case was done.

Yeah, becoming a vegetarian was sounding good right about now.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The strains of Goldberg Variations by Bach, a well-appointed dining room table with place settings for one serving a beautifully prepared and presented liver. As fork and knife respectfully cut the meat a handsome, professorial man in his 40s. Erudite and as well appointed as his dining room. He cuts a piece of liver, skewering it with his fork before applying a balance of garnishes with his knife. He takes a bite.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarice meets the man from the coffee house with Will...and awkwardness ensures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to make the episodes into three parts in my story, wanted to make the story longer :D

**Apéritif Part 2**

**687 Bayshore Avenue - Suite 200, Baltimore.**

He watched the sobbing man inscrutably for an uncomfortably long moment, studying him.

A handsome, well-groomed man in his 30s named Franklyn. He tries to find dignity in his tears as he reaches out...

"Please… "

Doctor Hannibal Lecter fought back the urge to grimace in distaste at the man's disgusting display of depression as he looked at his hand for a while until Hannibal hands him the box of tissues he is reaching for.

"I hate being this neurotic." Franklyn said as he wipes his eyes and nose.

"If you weren’t neurotic, Franklyn, you would be something much worse." Hannibal said. His office was immaculate, filled with antiques and artifacts and a gallery of books in the fashion of Sir John Soane. Hannibal sits in an arm chair across from Franklyn, who gathers his emotions. "Our brain is designed to experience anxiety in short bursts, not the prolonged foamy lathers of duress your neuroses seem to enjoy. It’s why you feel as though a lion were on the verge of devouring you." He eyes the tissue Franklyn tosses on the side table. "You have to convince yourself the lion is not in the room. When it is, I assure you, you will know it."

Hannibal opens it to usher Franklyn out and finds a man waiting patiently on his doorstep. He watched him as he stood up and walked towards them.

"Doctor Lecter?" The man said as he took Franklin's hands, surprising the man.

"I hate to be discourteous, but this is a private exit for my patients."

"I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford with the F.B.I. May I come in?" The man asked.

"You may wait in the waiting room." Hannibal eyed his credentials, then dismisses Franklyn. "I’ll see you next week, Franklyn." Then to Jack Crawford. "Unless of course this is about him."

"Oh, no, this is all about you." Jack said.

Hannibal blinks and forces a flat smile.

\-----

Jack cools his heels, idly picks up a magazine. The door opens and Hannibal steps into the doorway.

"Please. Come in." Hannibal said. 

Jack surveys Hannibal’s collection of books and artifacts, admiring his art, as the doctor follows him in.  
  
"May I ask how this is all about me?" Hannibal asked.

"You can ask. But I do need to ask you a few questions first," Jack said. "Are you expecting another patient?"

"We’re all alone." Hannibal said.

"No secretary?" Jack said as Hannibal walked towards him.

"Was pre-dispositioned to romantic whims," Hannibal said as he and Jack walked side by side. "Followed her heart to the United Kingdom. Sad to see her go."

Hannibal is dangerously alone with Jack Crawford, who studies framed meticulous pencil drawings of Parisian landscapes.

"Are these yours, Doctor?" Jack asked.

"Among the firsts," Hannibal said as he indicates an immaculate rendering of a school. "My boarding school in Paris when I was a boy."

"Incredible amount of detail." Jack praised.

Hannibal picks up a pencil and cuts a point with a scalpel, blowing the shavings off the tip to reveal its sharpness.

"Learned very early a scalpel cuts better points than a pencil sharpener." Hannibal said.

Hannibal sits down the pencil, but not the scalpel. He listens to Jack, eyes drifting to the F.B.I. Agent’s jugular.

"I understand your drawings got you an internship at Johns Hopkins." Jack said.

The steady rhythm of Hannibal’s heartbeat, his nostrils flare and his eyes dilate, as he exhales a very calm observation.

"I am beginning to suspect you are investigating me, Agent Crawford." Hannibal said.

An eerie stillness as if lightning were about to strike.

"You were referred to me by Alana Bloom in the psychology department at Georgetown." Jack said.

Hannibal’s demeanor changes ever so slightly.

"Most psychology departments are filled with ham radio enthusiasts and other personality-deficients," Hannibal told him as he gave a faint smile at the agent. "Dr. Bloom would be the exception."

"You mentored her during her residency at John Hopkins?" Jack asked.

"I learned as much from her as she learned from me." Hannibal said.

"Showed me your paper in The Journal of Clinical Psychiatry," Jack said. "Evolutionary Origins of Social Exclusion."

"And?" Hannibal asked.

"Very interesting, even to a layman." Jack said.

"A layman? So many learned fellows going about in the halls of Behavioral Science at the F.B.I. and you consider yourself a layman?" Hannibal asked.

Jack nodded his head and said, "Yeah."

"So many learned fellows going about in the halls of Behavioral Science – at the FBI, and you consider yourself a layman." 

"I do when I’m in your company, Doctor. I’d like you to help me with two psychological profiles." Jack said.

"And what is the name of the person I am doing two psychological profiles now?" Hannibal’s piqued interest as he asked.

"Oh, no. You are not doing a psychological profile on just one person," Jack corrected him, causing Hannibal to cock his head at him in question. "You're doing it on two people. Will Graham and Clarice Starling."

Hannibal asked, curious in the two people he is too do a psychological profile on. "Can you tell me about them? So I'm not going in blind when I speak to them."

"Well, Will Graham is a Professor at the FBI academy, and he has this ability to empathize with serial killers and mentally re-create their crimes with vivid detail," Jack told him. "But Alana thinks that putting him out in the field will make him snap."

Hannibal's interest in Will Graham was fully peaked as he asked about the woman, "And Ms. Starling?"

"Clarice Starling has the same talent as Will Graham," Jack told him. "But hers also allows her to empathize with the victims and mentally re-create the crime done on them in vivid detail...it's hard to tell if she'll snap though Will doesn't seem to think she would." He turned and walked away, looking at Hannibal's books. "She's twenty-years-old and Will Graham is mentoring her."

His interest towards Clarice Starling was fully peaked as well as Hannibal commented, "You're allowing her on the field." Unbidden the woman from the coffee house came to his mind but it was ruthlessly pushed away, there was no way this Starling woman could be her. 

"She requested by Will Graham." Jack told him.

"Really? Did he tell you why?" Hannibal asked, curious as to why a man like Will Graham would request that his protege and a trainee join him out in the field.

Jack shook his head and said, "Whenever I asked him about her, Will would change the subject and when I ask her herself, Clarice would say he probably enjoys her company...or make some other flippant remark."

"You think they're hiding something." Hannibal stated.

"I don't know." Jack told him.

Hannibal went quiet as he thought over Agent Crawford's request. He would never have believed that he would met two people who fascinated him so much, but Hannibal found him very fascinated by Will Graham and his protege, Clarice Starling. Well, more like their similar yet dissimilar talents fascinate him, and Hannibal wondered if he could model them into becoming just like him, to become his protege, the both of them.

Hannibal smiled as he accepted Jack's request and the thought of them being his proteges, "I'll do the psychological profile on them."

**The Next Day.**

Clarice drove up onto Will's driveway and stepped out of her car, walking towards the porch. She leapt over the stairs and walked across the porch, knocking on the door when she opened up the screen door. Clarice heard the dogs barking but heard nothing of Will coming to open the door. She sighed and pulled out her spare key, not surprised that Will hadn't woken up with all that barking. Clarice slipped her key into the keyhole and turned it, hearing the lock release and Clarice opened the door, taking out her key. The dogs came charging at her, and Clarice patted each one of them as they danced before or behind her.

Clarice set her bag down as she made her way towards Will's bedroom. She pushed open the door to see him still in bed and asleep, only he was covered in sweat and with a towel draped over him and one under him. She cocked her head at the sight as she realized that he must have had a nightmare about the case and he had waken up in a cold sweat. Clarice walked over to him, jumped onto the bed and kneeled on the bed next to him, placing her hands on her hips as she said, "Will, get up this minute or I'm going to touch you with my ice cold hands." And she had forgotten her gloves back at her apartment, actually it was more like Salem was holding them hostage...damn cat.

Will muttered something under his breath that sounded like he's telling her to go away, and Clarice smirked before she touched him on his stomach which jolted Will awake and alert. She crossed her arms over her chest as she smiled down at him, feeling pleased with herself as she watched a surprised look appear on his face. Will sighed as he rubbed his eyes and said, "I should have known you would follow through with your threats."

Clarice smirked as she leaned back and said, "I don't make threats, Will, I make promises."

"Why are you here?" Will asked her.

"Because Agent Crawford wants us both in his office." Clarice told him with a lazy shrug.

Will looked at her with a peeved expression and said, "And why didn't Jack just call me to tell me this?"

Clarice smirked down at him once more before she raised up onto her knees and leaned over to the side, reaching for his phone the nightstand by his bed, she came back to her original position, which was kneeling on his bed next to him, and held out his phone. "Jack did try calling you, Will, but you didn't answer." Clarice said as she wiggled his phone as him.

He looked at the screen and saw that her words were true, he has seven missed calls and they were all from Jack. "Alright, did he tell you why he wanted us in his office?" Will asked her.

"About the case, obviously, and to met the extra help he brought onto the case," Clarice told him as she removed herself from his bed. "Last minute recruit, I think but the more the merrier."

"Who is it?" Will asked her as he climbed out of his bed.

"Some guy," Clarice told him as he walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him to get ready. "He didn't told me his name. All I care is that he doesn't do anything dumb, I would hate to have to shoot someone, and I look terrible is prison garb or in a straight jacket."

"You're not funny," Will said to her. "Can you drive me? I don't fell like I should be driving."

"Sure," Clarice told him with a cheeky grin. "But as long as you don't bitch about my driving."

____

Will said to her as he climbed out of her car when she had parked in the parking lot of the FBI academy, "I know I said I wouldn't bitch about your driving but did you have to pull that fast and furious stunt back there?" She wasn't in her uniform of a trainee, she was in casual wear though he knew that she kept her uniform in her car...somewhere, he didn't know where.

Clarice grinned devilishly at him and said,"Hey, I had to prove a point."

"And what point would that be?" Will asked her as they walked up the stairs.

"That I'm a better drive and they're going to lose no matter what," Clarice confidently told him as Will opened the door for her and she walked in. "That old girl may look like she doesn't belong in this time but what's under her hood certainly does."

Will groaned as he followed her in and said, "You're going to get yourself or someone else killed. And that someone else could be me."

Clarice looked at him with an arched look and said, "Are you still bitching back there, Professor?"

Will glared at her but fell silent as he and Clarice walked towards Jack's office. His thoughts going to the case and the girls, while Clarice's thoughts went to the man that Agent Crawford had brought in to help. Clarice wondered what kind of man he was as she and Will stepped into the office and saw Agent Crawford talking to a tall, lean, yet imposing silhouette of a man, his features impossible to spot due to his back facing them.

Clarice's eyes dropped to his ass and had to bite back a wolf whistle in womanly appreciation that was at the tip of her tongue,  _Not a lot of men who can make a pair of dress slacks work but this man was certainly built for it._

Jack spotted them and said, "Ah, you two are finally here."

Will snorted as he looked over at Clarice who looked away from the man's gorgeous ass before she was caught and said, "Yeah, no thanks to Clarice's reckless driving."

Clarice rolled her eyes at that and said, "My driving isn't reckless."

"Tell that to the two heart attacks I had on the way here." Will retorted.

"Strange, I thought having heart attacks would make one silent." Clarice retorted back.

Jack smiled at Clarice and said, "Strange to see you so sassy this early in the morning."

Clarice smiled back at him and said, "I'm always sassy, ask Professor Graham or Beverly...though before sassy I tend to be bitchy until I get coffee in me."

"Agent Crawford, aren't you going to introduce us?" asked a very sexy deep, velvety, yet raspy voice, a Lithuanian accent, from her side (that voice sounded awfully familiar to her and she wondered where she had heard it before...) and Clarice looked over and felt her mouth dropping open and her eyes widen at the sight of the man by her side, having to look up of course due to his six foot in height, towering over her five foot and six inch frame.

It was the man from the coffee house yesterday morning! Yeah, it was official she was cursed....or God really hated her and had it out for her, he ignored her prayer about never seeing this man again so that had to be it.

Jack's words drew Clarice from staring in horror at the man by her, "Ah, yes. This is Will Graham and Clarice Starling. Will, Clarice, this is...." Will noticed her stare and the man just smiled charmingly at her but he didn't ask her about it, at least not yet. He would wait until they are alone.

"Doctor Hannibal Lecter." The man finished, holding out his hand to Will.

Clarice almost jumped out of her skin when she saw that Doctor Lecter's hand had suddenly appeared in front of her, and she looked up to see that he had a faint smug smirk on his face as if he had wanted to startle her. She felt a warm blush form on her cheeks and down her throat as she took his rougher one in her smooth hand. Clarice took this time to examine his hand. He had sensible and steady hand of an artist, and it was warmer, and its firm grip seemed to refrain potent strength, as though the muscles that helped the finger to coil were alert, yet immobile under the skin. They were masculine hands, attractive hands, and Clarice didn't know that she even have a hand fetish until she felt his fingers on hers and his palm against hers.

What a thing to find out...

Clarice cleared her throat as she said, "So we meet again."

"Indeed...looks like my prays have been answered in that regard, Ms. Starling." Hannibal said.

Too bad hers weren't...seriously though, why did God answer this guy's prayer when she was rude to him and he ignored hers when she knew and regretted being rude? It just wasn't fair!

"I am really sorry about yesterday," Clarice told him, crossing her arms under her breasts, unconsciously pushing her breasts together and up. "I have this habit of speaking before I think." From the corner of her eyes she sees Will pinching the bridge of his nose and making a nose as if he was in pain, looks like he wasn't going to ask what happened because it would appear he had already figured it out.

Hannibal smiled down at her. "It's quite alright...do you say that to every man you meet?"

"Sadly, yes," Clarice said honestly. "I am trying to watch what I say but I seem to keep putting my foot in my mouth... I must love the taste of my foot wear."

Clarice Starling.... He now had a name for his mystery woman and she was just as pretty as he remembered her. And who would have though that he would see the coffee house woman so soon and learn her name as well? At first he couldn't believe that the woman that Jack wanted him to have a session to would be the same woman he had seen at the coffee house.

But what drew Hannibal in most to Ms. Clarice Starling was the hint of vulnerability, frailness that radiated off of her, as if something had happened to her in the past and it still lingers even though she was far passed childhood, though he enjoyed her scent the most. It was Evyan skin cream and L’Air du Temps, a nice scent and one that fit her. He wondered if she would open up to her and let him into her mind, she didn't look the type to submit and let anyone in that was new to her.

Clarice sat down next to Will, on his other side, leaving the other chair empty. Hannibal walked behind her, looking down at her from the corner of his eye as he continued to walk to the board.

Hannibal asked as he looked at the board. "Tell me, then, how many confessions?"

"Twelve dozen, the last time I checked. None of them had any details until this morning," Jack said as he and Hannibal walked to their seats, sitting down. "And then they all had details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a photograph of Elise Nichols’ body with his cell phone, shared it with his friends, and then Freddie Lounds posted it on Tattlecrime.com."

Clarice's eyes narrowed in annoyance as she mumbled, "Ah, my mortal enemy, Freddie Lounds, we meet again....why hasn't she been sued or, for the better, arrested?"

Will muttered at that, "Tasteless."

Hannibal asked him as he looked at him, "Do you have trouble with taste?"

Will said as he looked down and away, avoiding his eyes, "My thoughts are often not tasty."

"Nor mine," Hannibal said. "No effective barriers."

Clarice looked at Will, rising her brow. "Tasty? Thoughts could be tasty? Care to explain, Professor Graham?" How could thoughts be tasty? Never heard of that before.

"Not to you, my dear, not to you," Will told her before looking at Hannibal. "And I build forts."

"Associations come quickly." Hannibal said.

"So do forts." Will stated.

Clarice looked at him and said, lifting a shapely, dark eyebrow, "I didn't know you built a fort around you."

"That's because you ignore it and burst right through it." Will told her, turning his head to smile at her, which Hannibal noticed.

Clarice smiled at Will and said, "Maybe you shouldn't try build a fort than, Professor Graham, since they are so easily broken."

Will chuckled at that and said, "Only when they are in your capable hands, Trainee Starling."

Hannibal asked him, drawing his attention back to him, "Not fond of eye contact, are you?"

Will shifted uncomfortable in his seat and said, "Eyes are distracting you see too much, you don’t see enough." He continued as he looked towards Hannibal but not making eye contact with him. "And-And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, um, “Oh, those whites are really white”, or, “He must have hepatitis”, or, “Oh, is that a burst vein?” So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible."

Clarice looked at Will with a smile and said, "Should I start wearing glasses when I'm around you?"

"Don't sass me, young lady," Will told her. "I won't tolerate it."

"You tolerate a lot of my sass before, so what's stopping it now?" Clarice asked him, smiling at him much like a cat that just ate the canary. "Though it's totally not professional, I know that."

Will only shook his head with a small smile as he looked at FBI Agent and said, "Jack?"

Jack looked at him and asked, "Yes?"

Hannibal spoke up then, "I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love."

Clarice muttered as Will looked at Hannibal in shock, "Uh-oh...Houston, we have a problem."

"Whose profile are you working on?" Will asked him then he looked at Jack. "Whose profile is he working on?"

Hannibal said before Jack could say anything, "I’m sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can’t shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off."

Clarice got out of her chair and slowly made her way towards the door as she said, "I have a class to get to, I'll see you there, Professor...after I change which I have to do now so bye." Clarice hurried towards the door and opened it, she ran out of there as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels.

"Please, don’t psychoanalyze me," Will said, looking at Jack. "You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed."

Jack cleared his throat and said, "Will."

Will stood up, gathering his things up as he said, "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing."

Jack waited until the door fully shut before he cautioned to Hannibal, "Maybe we shouldn’t poke them like that, Doctor. Perhaps a less, uh, direct approach." Not that Hannibal tried to profile Clarice, surprisingly he had started with Will first.

Hannibal leaned forward as he said, "What he has is pure empathy. He can assume your point of view, or mine, and maybe some other points of view that scare him. It’s an uncomfortable gift, Jack."

Jack single reply was, "Hum."

"Perception’s a tool that’s pointed on both ends," Hannibal said as he looked towards the board. "This cannibal you have him getting to know I think I can help good Will see his face."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

After all her classes were done, Clarice opened her front door and kicked it shut behind her as Salem rubbed himself against her legs, she tossed her keys on her table before she picked up the animal and nuzzled her face against his.

"You are lucky that I don't use to you to get out of sticky situations, Salem...I thought Will was going to punch the good doctor in the face." 

Salem meowed at her before she puts him down and goes to feed him. 

_I can't believe he's the guy from yesterday morning...God must have really wanted to punish me for being rude to him._

She sighs heavily as she puts the cat food away and goes to get ready for bed, she needed to get to bed early because of the day she had...very stressful and she had trouble sleeping, hopefully the good ol' Doctor didn't notice it.

Her iPhone rings surprising the hell out of her and she pulls it out of her back pocket, it was an unknown number so she shrugs and answers it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Ms. Starling this is Hannibal Lecter."

Well, she wasn't going to get ready for bed now not after she heared his voice on the phone, if she thought his voice was sexy in person it had nothing on hearing it on the phone. She had to keep herself together or else she'd melt into a puddle on the floor.

Clarice snapped out of it when she realized that she hadn't said anything and been just staring ahead in a daze and said, "Hello, Doctor Lecter...um, I hate to be rude but how did you get my number?"

Hannibal smiles at her words as he poured himself a cup of tea, unlike some rude people she apologized and regretted her words as soon as she said it as he saw yesterday after she made that chloroform comment.

"Jake gave it to me, he had it in your profile...I hope that was alright, Ms. Starling."

"It's fine, I just wasn't expecting you to call me...after what happened yesterday."

"Hannibal and like I told you already, it's fine and today was a new day...as is tomorrow."

She wasn't going to call him by his first name, since she had just met him and didn't know all that much about him...she didn't care if people called her by her first name or last name.

Clarice cleared her throat and said, "True...so why did you call me?"

"Just wanting to make sure you got to your class on time and didn't get yelled at for being late."

She flushed when she heard him repeat her excuse to leave when Will got upset earlier that day by his surprise profile of her teacher and mentor.

"I did, he wasn't mad and I was able to make it with time to spare after getting changed," Clarice said. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, I will see you soon, Clarice. May I call you that, Clarice? And have a good night."

"I don't mind and you too, night."

Clarice hangs up the phone and stares at it. Well, that was a surprise...she hadn't expect him to call her nor was she expecting Jack to give him her number not that she had told him not to but still, she had been hoping that he'd ask her first before he did it. She quickly got ready for bed, trying not to think too much about that phone call. 


	4. Chapter 4

** Apéritif Part 3 **

**The Next Day.**

Clarice was fighting the urge to be reintroduced to her breakfast as she covered her mouth as she looked at the girl skewered on the horns of the stag head, as if she had fallen on them. Brian chased the crows away from around the body and off the body.

She grabbed onto Will's jacket with her free hand and said, "This is different from the others." Her eyes scanned the body and the head, narrowing as something dawns on her.

Will looked down at her and asked, "What are you seeing, Clarice?"

"The lack of love," Clarice said, without hesitating. "I don't see the fatherly love that I'd seen with Elise Nichols...he wouldn't have left her in a field like this and leave her for the crows if he felt any love for her."

"So, you see it, too," Will said, looking at her with approval. "Did your empathy tell you that?"

Clarice nodded her head and said, "Yeah."

Jack walked over to them as he said, "Stag head was reported stolen last night, about a mile from here."

Will looked at him and asked him, "Just the head?"

"Minneapolis Homicide’s already made a statement," Jack sighed as he said. "They’re calling him the Minnesota Shrike."

Will frowned at that and asked, "Like the bird?"

"Shrike’s a perching bird. Impales mice and lizards on thorny branches and barbed wire," Jimmy explained to Will. "Rips their organs right out of their bodies, puts them in a little birdie pantry, and eats them later."

Clarice said, gagging, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Jimmy gave her a dumbfounded look and said, "You can watch a gory movie and then eat soon after but seeing this, you become queasy."

"From a movie, it's tame, like very tame...at least some movies are," Clarice said. "This isn't the movies, this is reality."

Jack commented as he looked at the display, "I can’t tell whether it’s sloppy – or shrewd."

"He wanted her found this way. It’s… it’s petulant," Will explained. "I almost feel like he’s mocking her. Or he’s mocking us."

Jack asked, looking at Will, "Where did all his love go?"

Will looked at him and said, "Whoever tucked Elise Nichols into bed didn’t paint this picture."

Clarice agreed with Will, "I second the notion. This isn't our killer, this is someone else. And I don't like him...anyone who can do this to another human being is disgusting."

"He took her lungs," Brian commented then he grimaced. "I’m pretty sure she was alive when he cut ’em out."

"Yep, my breakfast is coming up to say hello," Clarice said as she turned and hurried away, Jimmy and Beverly hurrying after her to help.

"Our cannibal loves women. He doesn’t want to destroy them," Will said once his student was out of ear shot. "He wants to consume them, to keep some part of them inside. This girl’s killer thought that she was a pig."

Jack asked as he looked at Will after he looked at the girl's body and asked, "You think this was a copycat?"

"The cannibal who killed Elise Nichols had a place to do it and no interest in in field kabuki. So, he has a house, or two, or a cabin something with an antler room. He has a daughter. The same age as the other girls. Same hair color, same eye color, same height, same weight," Will said as he turned and walked after Jimmy and Beverly, to check on Clarice. "She’s an only child. She’s leaving home. He can’t stand the thought of losing her. She’s his golden ticket."

Jack asked him, causing Will to stop and look back at him. "What about the copycat?"

"You know, an intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist, is very hard to catch. There’s no traceable motive, there’ll be no patterns," Will told him as he started to walk towards where Clarice was heaving up her breakfast. "He may never kill this way again. Have Dr. Lecter draw up a psychological profile. You seemed very impressed with his opinion." And with that he walked away, leaving Jack standing there.

A little afterwards, Clarice was now lying in her car with a cool wet cloth covering her eyes. Her head near the steering well and her feet sticking out the window as she tried to regain control over her traitorous body.

Bloody hell, that was rough and nasty...she hated throwing up, she hated the taste and feel of it. Hence why she never drank enough to get drunk and avoided people who had the flue like they had some sort of skin eating disease. Whoever killed that girl was sick and he needed help, serious help and he needed to be locked away and have the key thrown away.

He will probably never love woman and if he did, that would be shocking because he didn't seem to view other people as well people.

"Are you okay, Clarice?"

Clarice moves the rag from her eyes a bit and opened an eye to see Jack looking at her from the window.

"Groovy...love throwing up my food," Clarice. "Ugh, that was rough..."

"You should head back to your hotel room, Clarice, if you're not feeling well still."

"Let me rest for a bit and than I'll go...sorry."

"It's fine, I am sure everyone else wanted to throw up too." He said as he walked away.

"That doesn't make me feel any better," Clarice said. "And I'll see you tomorrow."

She sighed heavily and moved the wet cloth back over her eyes as she waited for her stomach to stop rebelling against her. She was never going to look at a mounted deer head the same ever again. Clarice was already not going to eat anymore meat because of this case.

Well, she should probably head back to her hotel room, being out in the sun isn't helping her stomach at all. She sits up and climbs out of the truck bed, tossing the cloth into the cab before she opened the door and slide into the driver's seat, she started the engine and drove off waving good-bye as she does so. Clarice was going to take a cold shower and then get into bed for much needed sleep.

**Next Morning.**

Will was awoken from his sleep by a knock on his hotel room's door, Will wrapped a robe around himself as he shuffled to the door wiping the fresh sleep out of his eyes. He opened the door revealing Hannibal Lecter standing outside holding two cups, a thermos and a small thermal food storage bag.

"Good morning, Will. May I come in?" Hannibal said.

Will stared at him.

"Where’s Crawford?" Will asked looking around for him.

"Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today." He said looking into the hotel room, most likely looking to see if he was alone with Will. "May I come in?" Clarice was in the room next to his. He hadn't heard any movement since early this morning so she must have gone back to sleep after waking up for some reason, he didn't know why she had trouble sleeping. Hannibal walked into the room when Will made room for him to enter.

A beautifully presented breakfast for two served on Tupperware containers on top of place settings. Freshly brewed coffee is poured into the two cups Hannibal carried. Hannibal peeled lids off the Tupperware dishes

"I’m very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself." He looked at Will. "A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage. Should you wake Clarice up?"

Will decided to ignore the fact that the doctor referred to his student by her first name and said, "She has this sixth sense when food is involved but I doubt she'll have much of an appetite after tomorrow...she had refused to eat dinner last night and only ate crackers but she barely kept those down."

And right on cue there was a knock at his door and Will stood up to answer it, he opens the door and smiles when he sees Clarice, "Morning, Clarice...how did you sleep?"

"Terrible and I have you and that guy to blame...bunch of jerks, making me slowly become a vegetarian." Clarice said as she stepped passed him and froze when she saw Hannibal sitting there, she was wearing the same shirt as she had worn yesterday and when he had first seen her, which was a white long sleeve dress shirt with a few top buttons undone but she had dark blue jeans on. "When did you two become friends?" She looked from Hannibal to Will and raised an eyebrow.

"We're not friends," Will said as he walked by her after closing the door. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"Got any crackers?" Clarice said when she made a grimace at the food, Will tossed her a packet of crackers on the nightstand.

Hannibal watched Will take a bite of his breakfast scramble.

"It’s delicious. Thank you."

He is genuinely amused and successfully hide it.

"My pleasure." Hannibal said as he ate and watched Clarice open the package and nibble on a cracker as she sat on Will's bed. "I would apologize for my analytical ambush, but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you’ll tire of that eventually, so I have to consider using apologies sparingly."

"I thought it was amusing...at least until you do it to me," Clarice quipped. "Then it won't as funny."

Ignoring Clarice who puffed out her cheeks at her mentor in feign annoyance because he ignored her, Will looked at him and said, "Just keep it professional."

"Or we could socialize, like adults. God forbid we become friendly." Hannibal said from his side vision he could see Clarice starting to get comfortable on the bed as she watched them.

"Don't dirty my sheets with your boots." Will said then to Hannibal. "I don’t find you that interesting."

"They're clean." Clarice said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Hannibal looked at Will and said, "You will." Clarice could have sworn he looked at her as well but she doubted it. "Agent Crawford tells me you have a knack for the monsters." he added as he goes back to eating.

Will pushed the bowl away and said, "I don’t think the Shrike killed that girl in the field."

Hannibal paused in his eating and looked at Will, "The devil is in the details. What didn’t your copycat do to the girl in the field? What gave it away?"

"Everything. It’s like he had to show me a negative so that I could see the positive. That crime scene was practically gift-wrapped." Will explained.

"The mathematics of human behavior all those ugly variables. Some bad math with this Shrike fellow, huh? Are you reconstructing his fantasies?"

"Heh."

"What kind of problems does he have?"

"He has a few."

Clarice was silent as she watched the men talk, propped up against the pillows and headboard of the bed as she ate her crackers.

Hannibal then said with almost with a wink, "You ever have any problems, Will?" He heard Clarice move (a quick glance over towards her showed the young woman sitting up when she heard his question), she was eyeballing him but it wasn't hostile, just wary.

"No."

"Of course you don’t. You and I are just alike problem-free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about. You know, Will? I think Uncle Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup. The finest China, used for only special guests."

Will laughs at that and said, "How do you see me?"

"The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by. Finish your breakfast."

Clarice frowned at that as she stared at Hannibal before she looked away, thinking about what he had meant about that.

**Later that day.**

Clarice was sitting in the back seat of Will's car, behind Hannibal as they drew up at a construction site. Hannibal had tried numerous times to get Clarice to talk to him but she wasn't in the mood, her nightmare last night was still fresh in her mind.

Will threw the car into park and began to unbuckle his seat belt when he noticed Hannibal smiling.

"What are you smiling at?" Will asked.

Clarice looked at the back of Hannibal's head but then she looked away to unbuckle her belt and climb out of the car.

"Peeking behind the curtain. I’m just curious how the FBI goes about its business when it’s not kicking in doors." Hannibal said.

"You’re lucky we’re not doing house-to-house interviews," Will said. "We found a little piece of metal in the clothes Elise Nichols had on. A shred from a pipe threader."

"Jack Crawford wants me to make sure you’re of sound mind and body... to look for metal pipe threaders?" Hannibal asked.

Will can’t help but smile himself.

"That’s between you and Jack." Will said.

"I'm always of sound mind and body." Clarice quipped. "Even when I am doing boring stuff."

Will smiled at Clarice at that.

"There must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota." Hannibal said.

"A certain kind of metal, certain kind of pipe, certain kind of pipe coating, so we’re checking all the construction sites that use that kind of pipe." Jack said.

"And what are we looking for?" Hannibal asked.

"At this stage, anything really. But mostly anything peculiar." Will said.

"Very peculiar." Clarice said when the two men join her outside the car.

Will and Hannibal step out of their rental car and cross toward a camper trailer office.

\--- 

A flustered, mildly suspicious secretary named Dixie stared at Will, Clarice and Hannibal leafing through pages as she talks on the phone in an ineffective hushed tone.

"Three people from the FBI. They goin’ through the drawers now. Mm-hmm. Puttin’ papers in file boxes. Yes, they are takin’ things. No. Well, they didn’t say– Yes, they can," Dixie said. "What did you say your names were?"

Clarice ignored the woman when she stood up and asked for their names as she helped take out the folders and put them in boxes.

Just then, Will finds a resignation letter of note.

"Garret Jacob Hobbs." Will said.

"One of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. Plumbers union requires them whenever members finish a job," Dixie said then whispering to the person on the other end of the phone. "I’ll call you back."

Dixie hangs up the phone and scoots out from around her desk.

"Did Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?" Will asked.

"Might have." Dixie said.

Clarice rolled her eyes at that which Hannibal caught since he was next to her as they went through the cabinets and put the folders in the boxes but he only smiled at her which caused Clarice to redden a bit and look away.

"Eighteen or nineteen, wind-chaffed? Plain but pretty? She would have auburn hair. About this tall." Will said as he held up his hand up to indicate the girl's height.

"Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t keep company with these people." Dixie said.

This time Clarice snorted at that, she's seen blind men who were better witnesses then this woman.

"What is it about Garret Jacob Hobbs you find so peculiar?" Hannibal asked.

"Left a phone number. No address." Will said.

Clarice lifted an eyebrow at that and said, "Peculiar indeed."

"Therefore he has something to hide?" Hannibal asked.

Will shrugged, not putting too much weight on the matter.

"Everyone else left an address," Will said then to Dixie. "You have an address for Mr. Hobbs?"

Will, Clarice, Hannibal and Dixie hauled file boxes from the make-shift office building to the trunk of their rental car. Hannibal allowed himself to knock a box out of the trunk, scattering papers. Will, Clarice and Dixie stoop to pick them up.

"I got it." Will said as he and the women started to pick up the folders. As Will, Clarice and Dixie pick up the pages, Hannibal returned to the office. Hannibal waited as the door hinges closed and latched with a click, watching Dixie. Clarice and Will clean up the mess he made. Satisfied, Hannibal picked up the phone with his sleeve. 

**BLOOMINGTON, MINNESOTA Hobbs Home.**

A bright, intelligent young woman, Abigail Hobbs, answered the phone her mother Louise (40s) and father Jacob (40s) are preparing breakfast in the background. Abigail is a Minnesota girl like Elise Nichols and the rest.

Abigail heard the kitchen phone ring and goes to answer it, "Hello? Just a second. Dad! It’s for you!" She looked at her father who was behind her.

"Who is this?" Mr. Hobbs asked as he took the phone from his daughter.

Abigail shrugged and said, "Caller ID said it was a blocked call."

She handed her father the phone and he pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?" He said as his daughter and wife walked out of the kitchen.

Hannibal spoke simply and clearly into the office phone.

"Mr. Garret Jacob Hobbs?"

"Yes."

"You don’t know me and I suspect we’ll never meet. This is a courtesy call. Listen very carefully. Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"They know."

The line goes dead and Mr. Hobbs lowered the phone, looking away.

\--- 

Will popped an Aspirin behind the wheel of the rental car, Clarice had handed her purse over to him when he had tried digging in her purse from an awkward position. Lecter unbuckled his seat-belt on the passenger side as Clarice does the same in the backseat. Will thought for a moment before getting out.

Hannibal smiled, a hint of excitement.

Will walked purposefully to the front door, trying his best not to look uncomfortable. Hannibal purposefully lags behind. Will is halfway to the door when it suddenly opened, Louise Hobbs bleeding and wheezing, she is shoved down the porch steps in a heap, the door slamming shut behind her. Will rushed to dying Louise Hobbs. Her alabaster skin in sharp contrast to the crimson pouring out of it. Multiple wounds puncture her torso and arms. She grasped haltingly for Will, streaking him with her blood. Her cold hand clutched his wrist as her body spasms. She’s already gone and Will knows this.

He pried her slick, red fingers from his wrist, trying not to see the last flickers of pain and fear exciting her face. Clarice kneeled next to the dead body of Louise, she and Will share a look then she motioned with her head to go inside. Will smashed into the door with everything he’s got. It’s hard to say whether the sickening crack was from his shoulder or the  wood frame. He gave it a well-placed kick, and another, splintering it little-by-little until he can stumble inside.  
  
Hannibal strolled casually up the walk, barely glancing at the lifeless body of Louise Hobbs stepping deliberately over it which earned him a look from Clarice who was kneeling next to the body as she talked into the phone but he ignored her. He paused in the broken doorway, listening closely. The wild-eyed contrast to Dr. Lecter, Will works his way from room to room, gun first. Adrenaline allowed him to ignore the splatters of blood defacing the walls and floors.  
  
"Garret Jacob Hobbs? F.B.I." Will said before he stopped cold at the sight before him as he moved into.  
  
Garrett Jacob Hobbs behind his daughter, Abigail, slashing at her throat. The wide-eyed girl has her weight against him, chin tucked down, gasping for air.Time seems to slow to a crawl as the sound yields to the ambient noise of Will’s circulatory system. Will raises his pistol, he fired into Hobbs’s exposed upper chest, one after another. Hobbs doesn’t go down. He kept slashing. Will kept shooting. With one last deep cut, Hobbs finally fell.

Hannibal stepped into the kitchen, his inscrutable expression suddenly registering genuine pity and regret at he saw.  
  
Abigail struggled to breath underscored by the wheeze of air through her slashed wind-pipe. Will applied pressure to the wounds, scooping Abigail onto his lap. He looked up to see Garret Jacob Hobbs.  
  
"See? See?" Jacob said.

Will’s eyes are glazed. He’s shutting down. Behind him Hannibal moved swiftly to Abigail, addressing her wounds as she stared at her dying father even as her own life ebbs. Will gently raised her glassy eyes to his own as Hannibal works. Will doesn’t look away.

\---

He leaned against the rental car staring at the crime scene circus. He watched as paramedics haul Abigail into the back of their ambulance, and standing next to him was Clarice... always present and reliable Clarice.

Hannibal continued to hold Abigail's hand, crawling in beside her as a paramedic pulls the doors shut.

\---

Jack walked down the corridor toward Will’s lecture hall. But when he gets to the door he noticed instead of Will at the front of the class, it’s Dr. Alana Bloom mid-lecture. Crawford knocked to get her attention. She crossed to the door and opened it a crack.  
  
"Where’s Graham?" Jack asked.

She considered Crawford and how to answer him best, then she said, "You said he wouldn’t get too close." And before Jack can respond, she as respectfully as possible closed the door in his face and returned to her lecture.

**HOSPITAL**

Will walked under the horrible glare of hospital fluorescent, passing hospital security as he rounds a corner turning into a room  
  
Will entered to find Abigail Hobbs integrated into an elaborate weave of life-saving technology. Sleeping in a chair next to her bed is Hannibal. He’s holding her hand, offering a tiny comfort. Will Graham quietly sat in the empty chair next to Lecter watching his unconscious care for the girl they both saved.

\--- 

Clarice tossed her keys on the table near her front door as she bent over and picked up the mail that had been put through the slot in the door, she looked through the mail and opened the envelopes. Junk mail and some bills that she needed to pay, how fun...she really hated junk mail, she hated getting other people's mail too. 

She put the mail on the table and walks further into the room, she took off her jacket and tossed it on the chair as she goes into her end of day ritual. Feeding the cat, making her dinner and then showering, she walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around her body. She opened a drawer of her dresser and pulled out a pair of panties before she slipped into them and then goes to her closet and pulled down a dress shirt and put it on after she drops the towel. Clarice picked up a book and jumped into bed, opening it to a dog eared page and started to read.

On the front cover was a picture of Ted Bundy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now own the seasons 1-3 of Hannibal on DVD

**Amuse-Bouche Part 1**

**Hobb's cabin in CHIPPEWA NATIONAL FOREST, MINNESOTA.**

Will woke with a small start as Jack knock on the window he's presently using as a pillow. Clarice woke much more calmly then he did, blinking and stretching as she unbuckled her seat belt.

"We’re here." Jack said.

Clarice and Will get out of the car and look around.

A cold wind whips dead leaves around the eerie animal-skull covered cabin where Garret Jacob Hobbs committed his murders.

There was a wall of antlers. No trace of actual wall is visible through the bramble, now covered in F.B.I. evidence bags, barely concealing the antlers underneath. The centerpiece of this macabre facade was the massive rack of a mature stag, chalky-white branches contrasted against crown-tines purpled by dry blood.

Will was transfixed by the horrifying cage of bones around him. Every inch of wall, floor and ceiling is obscured by layers of antler under a veil-like evidence bag. Will focuses on the bloody stag rack, cutting through the bag to look closer. He turns, examining the rest of the room. Will looks around the room from this horrible vantage point. Clarice was looking around the room as well but unlike Will, she was moving around. The door to the little shack creaks open as Jack steps quietly in, a steady unease about him. Will doesn't look up.

"Could be a permanent installation in your Evil Minds museum." Will said.

"What we learn from Garret Jacob Hobbs will help us catch the next Garret Jacob Hobbs. There are still seven bodies unaccounted for." Jack said.

Will looked at Clarice before he looked at Jack and said, "Because he ate them."

"Had to be parts he didn't eat." Jack said.

Will shook his head and said, "Not necessarily."

"He probably got rid of them." Clarice said as she looked around.

Jack considered the magnitude of the room, coldly disturbed.

"What if Hobbs wasn't eating alone." Jack said. "A lot of work. Disappearing these girls, butchering them and then worse. All without leaving a shred of anything outside of this room."

Will considered that a moment, then he said, "Someone he hunted with?"

Jack walked up to Will and said, "Or someone in a coma. Who happens to also be someone he hunted with."

Will closed his eyes but then he opened them, still digesting and asked, "Abigail Hobbs is a suspect?" He wasn't buying it because she was still in a coma from the stab wounds at the hands of her father.

"We've been conducting house-to house interviews around the Hobbs residence and this property." Jack said as he watched Clarice kneel down when she saw something. 

"What's the gossip?" Will asked.

"Hobbs and his daughter spent a lot of time together. They spent a lot of time together here. She would be the ideal bait, wouldn't she?" Jack said.

He studied the floor around him, eyes catching on the same thing that had caught Clarice's eyes.

Will also kneeled down and saw what Clarice had seen as he said, "Hobbs killed alone." Will's tone is definitive and Jack doesn't press the issue, but most certainly takes note of it. Will used the tweezers in his pocket to tweeze something off an evidence bag, holding up a long, red hair in the tweezers. "Ah…someone else was here. Nice eye, Trainee Starling." 

"Thank you, Professor Graham." Clarice said as she stood up.

**MOTEL ROOM MINNESOTA**

Freddie Lounds was sitting naked at a weathered motel desk, working at her laptop connected to a larger portable monitor. Her long red hair cascades over her shoulders, recently showered. Various photographs of the antler room "slideshow" across her monitor, as they are downloading from an expensive camera.  
  
Freddie drags a picture of the antler room under a banner reading "IN THE MINNESOTA SHRIKE'S NEST: EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS." She does click-clicking on her keyboard and clicks "UPLOAD."

**FBI ACADEMY, QUANTICO, VA**

Will walked down the corridor toward his lecture hall. He peered through the window of his classroom. Pushing his glasses up, Will took a breath and stepped into where, to his surprise, he's greeted with a standing ovation from his students. The clapping stopped him cold. Will waved them off, uncomfortable. Clarice was already sitting in class but she was the only one who didn't clap or stand. She remained sitting with her arms crossed over her chest with a small frown on her lips, clearly not liking their response. 

"Thank you. Please stop that," The applause petered out. Will dumped his briefcase on the desk and dived right into the lecture. He dimmed the lights, bringing up a slide of Hobbs’s resignation letter. "This is how I caught Garret Jacob Hobbs. It's his resignation letter. Anybody see the clue?" A few hands go into the air. Will ignored them. "There isn’t one. He wrote a letter, left his phone number... But no address. That’s it."

Will advanced to the next slide and the crime scene photo of the Hobbs kitchen appeared above him. A dead Hobbs, blood everywhere. It’s horrific.

Will quickly clicked to the next slide: a picture of Garret Jacob Hobbs and his daughter Abigail in happier times, smiling after a hunting trip. "Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. The question now is how to stop those his story is going to inspire." Will studied the picture, taking stock of the happy Abigail before. Cassie, splayed across the rack of a stag, jumped onto the overhead screen. "He’s already got one admirer."

Alana hurried down the corridor toward Will's lecture hall. Alana entered as the trainees file out of the classroom. Will is actively avoiding eye-contact with the students filing out, but somehow immediately noticed Alana's arrival. Clarice remained behind which was rare for her but she didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone. 

"Hi." Will said.

Alana glanced at Clarice who was watching her before she looked at Will and asked, "How are you, Will?? And you, Clarice?"

"I have no idea." Will said with a smile.

"I'm fine, thank you." Clarice said coolly.

"That may change. I didn't want you to be ambushed" Alana said as she looked at them both.

"Ambushed'?" Clarice repeated with a frown. 

"Is this an ambush?" Will asked.

Alana shook her head and said, "Ambush is later. Immediately later, soon to be now. When Jack arrives consider yourself ambushed." Clarice looked over to the door just as Will did and saw Jack Crawford enter, navigating the last of the trainees.

"Here’s Jack." Will said when he saw him.

Clarice waved and said, "Hello, Jack."

Jack looked at Will and Clarice and said, "How was class?"

Will looked at him and said, "They applauded, it was inappropriate."

"Highly inappropriate." Clarice added.

"Review board begs to differ. You’re up for a commendation and they okayed active return to the field." Jack said.

Will took this in, between pleased and apprehensive.

Alana looked at Will and asked, "Question is... do you want to go back in the field." Clarice noticed that this conversation seemed to be more directed at Will then her but she paid attention in case it was switched to her.

"I want you to go back in the field, but I told the Board I'm recommending a psych evaluation," Jack said. "Ms. Starling is also getting one."

Clarice looked at him with an odd expression on her face, to Jack it looked like worry and fear.

Why would she be afraid?

Will then glanced to Alana, who apologized with a look as Jack took in Clarice's reaction.

But before Jack could ask why Clarice would be afraid, Will then asked, "Are we starting now?"

Alana shook her head at that and said, "Session wouldn't be with me."

Jack nodded his head and said, "Hannibal Lecter might be a better fit. Your relationship's not as personal. But if you'd be more comfortable with Dr. Bloom..."

"I'm not going to be comfortable with anybody inside my head." Will interrupted him, missing Clarice's blanch expression at the mere mention of Hannibal's name.

Was Jack against her now too? Why did it seem like everyone seemed to like making her life miserable by forcing her to interact with the good doctor when she wanted nothing to do with him, after she was so rude to him before she even learned his name. 

"You've never killed someone before, Will. It's a deadly force encounter. It's a lot to digest." Alana said.

Will looked at her and said, "I used to work homicide. I've got a good metabolism."

Jack fixed Will with a look and said, "Reason you currently "used to" work homicide is you couldn't stomach pulling the trigger. You just pulled the trigger ten times."

Clarice silently agreed with Jack, shooting Hobbs ten times was a bit of an overkill but she kept it to herself. She didn't want her mentor to think she was agreeing with them and ganging up on him as well.

Will looked at him and said, "So Psych Eval's not a formality?"

Jack shook his head and said, "It's so I can sleep. I asked you to get close to Hobbs and I need to know you didn't get too close. How many times have you spent the night in Abigail Hobbs' hospital room?"

"Therapy doesn’t work on me." Will stated, not answering his question.

Jack snorted and said, " 'Cause you won't let it."

" 'Cause I know all the tricks." Will stated.

Jack sighed and said, "Unlearn some tricks."

Alana stepped forward and said, "Why not have a conversation with Hannibal. He was there. He knows what you went through."

"I need my beauty sleep, Will." Jack said.

Will bristled at that, Alana offered him a supportive smile.

Clarice looked at her mentor and said, "Let's humor them and go... I'll be with you every step of the way."

Will didn't reply but he did give her a slightly grateful look, so did Alana and Jack. Clarice wasn't doing it for them though, she was doing it for Will as she looked at them with a slightly raised eyebrow. She didn't want to go through this either but she knew that she had to.

**HANNIBAL LECTER’S OFFICE - WAITING ROOM**

The door open and Hannibal spoke to his next patient, "Good evening. Please come in." Will Graham and Clarice Starling were sitting inscrutably side by side, waiting.

Hannibal, in his office, a prescient smile tickling the corners of his mouth as he sat with Will, Clarice was in the waiting room waiting for her turn to talk to the good doctor. Hannibal slide a piece of high-quality stationary across the table.

Will looked at the folder and asked, "What's this?"

"Your Psychological Evaluation. You're totally functional and more or less sane. Well done." Hannibal said.

Will frowned at him and asked, "Did you just rubber stamp me?"

"Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn't break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork." Hannibal said.

Will studied Hannibal a moment then he said, "Jack thinks I need therapy." Will added. "As well as Trainee Starling." Hannibal noted that Will referred to Clarice by her surname when he knew he called her by her first name.

"I'm not sure therapy will work on you. Stealing into other minds has taught you how to fortify your own." Hannibal said. "The same can be said for Ms Starling."

"That's what I said." Will said.

"What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there." Hannibal said.

The simplicity of that strikes Will.

"Last time he sent me into a dark place I brought something back." Will replied.

"A surrogate daughter?" Hannibal asked.

Will debated arguing the suggestion, then doesn't.

"Not cause I got too close to Hobbs." Will said.

"You saved Abigail Hobbs' life. You also orphaned her. It comes with certain emotional obligations, regardless of empathy disorders." Hannibal said.

Will looked at him and said, "You were there. You saved her life, too. Do you feel obligated?"

Hannibal nodded his head and said, "I feel a staggering amount of obligation. I feel responsibility. I've fantasized about scenarios where my actions may have allowed a different fate for Abigail Hobbs."

Will studied Hannibal, feeling a sense of camaraderie.

"Jack thinks Abigail Hobbs might've helped her dad kill those girls." Will said.

A long silence, then Hannibal asked, "How does that make you feel?"

Will didn't reply instead he asked, "How does it make _you_ feel?

"I find it vulgar." Hannibal said.

Will nodded his head and said, "Me too."

Hannibal then said, "And entirely possible."

Will shook his head and said, "It’s not what happened."

"Jack will ask her when she wakes up or he'll have one of us ask her." Hannibal said.

Will frowned at him and asked, "Is this therapy, or a support group?"

"It’s whatever you need it to be. And, Will, the mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself, not the worst of someone else." Hannibal replied. A moment as that sunk in. "Now can you get Ms. Starling? It's her turn now."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clarice walked into the room and looked around, this was her first time being in a place like this and it wasn't like anything she had been expecting. There were books everywhere as well as art work.

"Please sit down, Clarice." Hannibal said as he motioned to a free seat next to him, he had been watching her as she looked around. 

She looked at him as she sat down in the chair opposite of him, she was silent at first but then she said, "I don't want to be here... I don't to get a psychological evaluation." Clarice wanted to run, she hated talking to people about what was wrong with her and why she didn't like to get involved with any man. And she as hell wasn't going to tell Hannibal that she was attracted to him and that he was the only man that made her want to jump his bones.

Hannibal was annoyed, he had seen her strength and he didn't like this weakness that she was showing him right now.

"You're so ambitious, aren't you? You know what you look like to me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well-scrubbed, hustling rube with a little, taste. Good nutrition has given you some length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are you Officer Starling? That accent you're trying so desperately to shed - pure West Virginia. What was your father, dear? Was he a coal miner? Did he stink of the lamp? And oh, how quickly the boys found you. All those tedious, sticky fumblings, in the back seats of cars, while you could only dream of getting out. Getting anywhere, yes? Getting all the way to the F.B.I." Hannibal said as he looked at Clarice. 

His every word has struck her like a tiny, precise dart. But she squared her jaw and didn't give ground as she narrowed her blue eyes at him, her anger raising.

"You see a lot, Dr. Lecter. But are you strong enough to point that high-powered perception at yourself? How about it...? Look at yourself and write down the truth." She fixed him with a hard stare. "Or maybe you're afraid to."

"You're a tough one, aren't you?" Hannibal asked as he gave her a thoughtful look.

"Reasonably so. Yes." Clarice said.

"And you'd hate to think you were common. My, wouldn't that sting. Well you're far from common, Trainee Starling. All you have is the fear of it." Hannibal said as he sat back as he looked at her, he was surprised but he kept it off his face. Not many people saw what she saw and she had called him out on it, using the same method that he had done to her. In fact, he found himself slowly start to feel something with her which was surprising because he had never felt this way towards a woman before.

"Sorry...I shouldn't have said that." Clarice said as she broke eye contact with him and looked away.

"No need to apologies, Clarice." Hannibal said. "I was too harsh on you."

Clarice smiled warily at him and said, "No, I should be apologizing... It wasn't right to take out my anger with Jack and Doc Bloom on you."

"Why are you angry at them?"

"They want us to a psychological evaluation." Clarice explained shifting in her chair. "I don't like being looked at with pity when I tell people why I am... Broken."

"Are you broken, Clarice?"

"That's what my passed doctors told me." A humorless laugh erupted from her. "And my two previous boyfriends."

Hannibal kept his anger to himself, he didn't like the thought of her having any lovers, passed or present. "Are you in a relationship with someone at the moment?" He asked her.

Clarice shook her head and said, "No, I don't want to go through that again."

"Maybe the right man will come along, Clarice."

"Maybe but I wouldn't hold my breathe, Doctor Lecter."

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three wildlife explorers (Troy, Steve, Jason ages 11, 12, 13) as they stomp through the dense vegetation into a clearing. The boys stop short as Troy approaches a Burlap sack covering what may be some kind of vegetable.  
  
"I bet it's marijuana." Troy said.  
  
"They're tomatoes. The sack is to keep the raccoons from eating them." Steve said.  
  
"Why would you grow tomatoes all the way out here? It's marijuana." Troy said as he slowly pulls the Burlap Sack off to reveal a human arm protruding from the ground, stock-like, the base sprouting a quilt-work of nest-shaped mushrooms. The boys' jaws drop.  
  
"That's not marijuana." Jason said.

The small clearing is filled with six more burlap sacks, horror hiding under each one of them


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to come out and say it, I really HATE Freddie... she was a *bleep* that needed to be punched. Not that I am saying that Clarice would do it (she might) but still she needed to be punched or badly threatened by Hannibal.
> 
> I know it's a short chapter but I did it on purpose because I wanted to leave off on a good cliff-hanger :D

**Amuse-Bouche Part 2**

**FBI SHOOTING RANGE - QUANTICO, VA**

Will blasted away once more at his target. He returned the target from down-range, unhappy with his accuracy but pleased he's not seeing Hobbs. Sitting on a chair close by was Clarice as she watched her mentor blasted away at his target. Neither he or she notice the arrival of another woman.  
  
"I'm pretty sure firearm "accuracy" isn't a prerequisite for teaching."

Will turned to find Beverly behind him, looking on. She smiled.  
  
"I've been in the field before." Will said.

"Hey, Bev." Clarice said with a wave.  
  
"Now you're back in the saddle. Ish." Beverly said.  
  
"Ish, indeed," Will said. "It took me ten shots to drop Hobbs."

Will turned back to the target; his bullet holes are all over the place. Clarice watched with a frown, it was obvious to her that something was bothering him but she couldn't put her finger on it.  
  
"Zeller wanted to give you the bullets he pulled out of Hobbs in an acrylic case, but I told him you wouldn't think it was funny." Beverly said.

"Probably not." Will said as he threw a fresh target on the clips, sent it down range.  
  
"I suggested he turn them into a Newton's Cradle, one of those clacking swinging ball things." Beverly said which earned her a smile from Clarice finally.

"You should have done that." Clarice quipped. "It would have been funny."  
  
Will smiled and said, "Now that would have been funny." He fired and missed the target entirely.  
  
"Are you a Weaver or isosceles guy?" Beverly asked.  
  
"I have a rotator-cuff issue, so I have to use the Weaver stance." Will said as he assumed the position, demonstrating. Beverly studied him.

She put a hand on his right shoulder, pressing down gently as she said, "You are tight."

"Ohmygod, I hope no one came in during that comment, Bev." Clarice said laughing. "Otherwise they would have totally assumed something else!"

Beverly swatted at Clarice good naturedly, laughing as well and Will just smiled at his student.  
  
"I got stabbed when I was a cop." Will said.  
  
"I got stabbed in the third grade. With a number 2 pencil. Thought I was going to get lead poisoning." Beverly said.

Clarice laughed at that and said, "Same here... You should have seen how badly I panicked."  
  
"No lead in a pencil. Graphite." Will said with a smile.  
  
"Now you tell me." Beverly said as she reached around and flared out his left elbow instead. "See if that helps with the recoil."

Will exhaled and then he drilled the target in a much tighter cluster, Beverly returned the target.  
  
"It's better. You come all the way down here to teach me how to shoot?" Will asked as he looked at her.

Beverly shook her head and said, "No, Jack sent me down here to find out what you know about gardening."

Clarice looked at her with a frown but doesn't say anything about it.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

A mushroom, Pleurotus Nidiformis, its stem sprouting from a quilt-work of moist soil and decaying matter. Suddenly, the soil and decay (along with the mushroom) are parted to expose the broken-down, yet unmistakable features of a human face. The face belongs to a naked man being pulled from the ground by emergency medical technicians. Not that his nakedness is an issue, as most of the man's body is covered in a morbidly vibrant kingdom of fungus and mold.  
  
The EMT's place a body-bagged body on a gurney and wheel him toward an ambulance, leaving five more occupied body bags that waited for transport. As they pass, Will, Clarice and Jack are slipping under the police tape cordoning off the area.  
  
"Lecter gave you two the "all clear." Maybe therapy does work on you, Will." Jack said.  
  
"Therapy is an acquired taste I have yet to acquire but sure served your purpose. I'm back in the field." Will said. "As is Ms. Starling."

Jack eyed Will, feeling the dismissal of his Psych Eval but he changed the subject and said, "Local police found more small animal traps in the surrounding woods. They even discovered a thirty gallon drum of pesticide hidden in a hollow tree along with a rusted Radio Flyer wagon."  
  
"Didn't want his "crop" disturbed." Will said.  
  
"All that's missing is a scarecrow." Jack said.

Clarice looked at Jack and said, "And some crown who ignored the scarecrow."

They approach Beverly, Brian, and Jimmy. Behind them, the FBI'S CSI team work to carefully unearth the three remaining buried victims from their shallow graves.  
  
"Seven bodies, various stages of decay, all very well fertilized." Jimmy said.

Beverly reached into a grave containing a partially uncovered, fungus-ravaged corpse (its eyes, nose, and mouth were covered in duct tape) and palmed a handful of black soil that were much different than the brown clay walls of the grave.  
  
"He buried them in a high-nutrient compost. He was enthusiastically encouraging decomposition." Beverly said.  
  
"Patient way to dispose of a body." Jimmy said.  
  
"They were buried alive with the intention of keeping them that way. At least for a little while." Brian said.  
  
"Long enough for the fungus to eat any distinguishing features and make it nearly impossible to tell how long they'd been in the ground." Jimmy said.

Brian points to a catheter in the victim's outstretched arm, which is supported by a section of rebar as he said, "Line and rebar were to administer intravenous fluids after burial. He was feeding them something."  
  
"No restraints? They weren't bound? Nothing to stop them crawling out?"  
  
"Just dirt." Jimmy said with a shake of his head.

Beverly pulled a tiny brush from the kit on her belt. She cleared the debris from under the corpse's nose and pulled back the duct tape revealing a breathing tube jammed into its nostrils. "The other end of the air supply system comes up over there," Beverly said as she pointed at something which caused Will and Clarice to turn to find a small umbrella in the grass. Pulling on a rubber glove, he picked up the umbrella to find an exposed piece of tubing sticking out of the ground. "It isn't a very considerate clean air solution, which clearly wasn't a priority. Cause he's not lazy."  
  
"No, he's not." Will said as he stared at the corpse in the garden grave.  
  
"Let's clear the scene." Jack said as he herded Zeller, Price, and Beverly, along with straggling E.M.T.s and local police out of the clearing and back into the surrounding woods, away from Will, Clarice and the graves.

The three wildlife explorer scouts and their parents crane their necks from behind the crime scene tape. Freddie Lounds stood among them surreptitiously snapping photos of Will as Jack led the others away. She lowered her camera and sidled up beside local Detective Pascal.  
  
"Excuse me. I'm one of the parents of the Explorers who found the bodies. I wanted to thank you for being so good with all the boys." Freddie said lying through her teeth.

Detective Pascal looked at her and said, "Those boys were very brave."  
  
"They are good boys." Freddie said. "You're a local police detective?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Pascal said.  
  
"Would it be an imposition to ask a few things? The boys are gonna have questions and I just want to be as honest with them as I can." Freddie said.  
  
"Of course." Pascal said.  
  
"Can you tell me what that man and woman is doing over there by themselves?" Freddie asked as she motioned to Will and Clarice who had remained at his side. The dark haired woman was hovering close by as she looked into the graves with a unreadable look on her face.

"That guy? He's some kinda special consultant. Works with the F.B.I." Pascal said as he looked over at them.  
  
"Huh." Freddie said.  
  
Freddie and Detective Pascal watch Will's seemingly strange process from behind the Crime Scene Tape. Detective Pascal noticed that the Wildlife Explorers are being gathered up by their Parents and moved off. He indicated to Freddie, who has also caught the eye of Brian on the other side of the crime scene tape.  
  
"I think your family is leaving." Pascal said.

Freddie can't take her eyes off Will Graham's peculiarities as she said, "We drove separately."  
  
_"I choose this man. I do not bind his arm or legs as I bury him in a shallow grave. He is alive but will never be conscious again. He won't know he's dying. I don't need him to. This is my design."_  
  
Freddie craned her head over Detective Pascal's shoulder as Will's sudden scream drew everyone's attention. Freddie watched Crawford, Zeller, Price and Katz race toward Will as Clarice comforted the shaken man by wrapping her arms around him and resting his head on her shoulder while trying to look at the 'dead' body.  
  
"Looks like you got a live one." Freddie said.  

**HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - BALTIMORE**

Will pushed the high-quality letterhead bearing Hannibal Lecter's Psych Eval back toward the man himself. Surprisingly Clarice was sitting next to Will, Hannibal had tried to get her to wait for her turn but she had insisted that she came in with Will for moral support and Will wanted her with him.  
  
"This may have been premature." Will said.

Hannibal slide the letterhead back toward Will as he said, "They'll revoke my rubber stamp."  
  
"Maybe they should." Will said.  
  
"What did you see? Out in the field?" Hannibal asked.

Will considered the question, debating how to answer, then he said, "Hobbs."  
  
"An association?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"A hallucination. I saw him lying there... in someone else's grave." Will said.  
  
"Did you tell Jack what you saw?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"No," Will said. "Just Clarice but only because she kept harassing me for an answer."

Clarice looked at Will when he said that but she doesn't say anything, she simply lifted an eyebrow in response.  
  
"It's stress. Not worth reporting. The mechanism that distinguishes conscious perceptions from internal perceptions misfired. You displaced the victim of another killer's crime with what could arguably be considered your victim." Hannibal said.  
  
"I don't consider Hobbs my victim." Will said.

Hannibal asked as his eyes flicked over to Clarice who was watching him already, "What do you consider him?"  
  
"Dead." Will said.  
  
"Is it harder imagining the thrill somebody else feels killing now that you've done it yourself?" Hannibal asked.  
  
Will looked at Clarice who looked at him before he answered the question, "Yes."

Hannibal appreciated the simple honesty of Will's answer as he said, "The arms. Why did he leave them exposed? To hold their hands? Feel the life leaving their body?"  
  
"Too esoteric for someone who took the time to bury his victims in a straight line. He's more practical." Will said.  
  
"He was cultivating them?" Hannibal asked.  
  
Instead of Will it was Clarice who answered the question, surprising Hannibal (though he didn't show any reaction of surprise) because she had simply been listening to their conversation, "He was keeping them alive. Feeding them fluids intravenously."  
  
Hannibal looked at her as he said, "Your farmer let his crops die, save for the one that didn't."  
  
"The one that didn't died on the way to the hospital. They weren't crops. They were the fertilizer. The bodies were covered in fungus." Will said.  
  
"Mycelium kill forests over and over, building deeper soil to grow larger and larger trees." Hannibal said.  
  
"If it were just about the soil, why bother keeping the victims alive?" Will asked.  
  
"The structure of a fungus mirrors that of the human brain. An intricate web of connections." Hannibal said.  
  
"Maybe he admires their ability to connect the way human minds can't." Will said.  
  
"Yours can." Hannibal said simply. "And Ms. Starling's."  
  
"Not physically. Not with reciprocity." Will said.

Clarice nodded her head in agreement but she doesn't say anything.  
  
"Is that what your Farmer is looking for? Some sort of connection." Hannibal said.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A high-powered microphone held against the wall. Freddie sat in the waiting room, her bag at her side, as she eavesdropped on Hannibal and Will Graham's therapy session via ear buds. A moment as Freddie listened, then a quick scrambled as she pulled the high-powered microphone away from the wall, winding ear buds around her fist then stuffing them in her pocket. The door suddenly swung open revealing Hannibal.  
  
Hannibal smiled at her as he said, "Good evening. Please come in, Ms Kimball."  
  
Freddie smiled, picked up her bag and followed the good Doctor.

Hannibal close the door behind her...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I am following the story so Hannibal does sleep with Alana but he was thinking of Clarice ;) and as for the whole running to Italy with the female doctor, he doesn't take her instead it's Clarice who goes because it'll be a good scene for her so she could figure out how she feels for the Cannibal :D actually she's kidnapped and does anyone wanna guess how he goes it? I gave a clue in the beginning of the story :)
> 
> And am I the only one who thinks the actor (Mads) who plays Hannibal is hot?

**Amuse Bouche Part 3**

**Hannibal's Office**

Hannibal sat in a high-backed chair opposite of Freddie.  
  
"I've never seen a psychiatrist before and I'm unfortunately thorough. So you're one of three doctors I'm interviewing. It's more or less a bake-off." Freddie said.  
  
"I'm very supportive of bake-offs. It's important you find someone you're comfortable with." Hannibal said.  
  
"I can imagine you as my therapist, which is good. If I couldn't visualize opening up emotionally, I know it would be a problem." Freddie said.  
  
"May I ask why now?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Would it be alright if I asked you a few questions first?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Of course." Hannibal said.  
  
"I love that you've written so much on social exclusion. Since that's why I'm here, I was wondering..." Freddie said.

Hannibal asked cutting her off, "Are you Freddie Lounds?"

It's as though he snatched the air right out of her throat.  
  
"I am so embarrassed." Freddie said.  
  
"You should be. This is unethical even for a tabloid journalist." Hannibal said.  
  
"I'm a criminal justice journalist." Freddie corrected.  
  
"I'm afraid I must ask for your bag." Hannibal said.

"What?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Your bag, please hand it over. I'd rather not take it from you. Please." Hannibal said

Freddie realized from the tone of his voice that he would take the bag from her, so she does as instructed.  
  
"Thank you."

He took the bag, placed it by his side.  
  
"I was recording our conversation." Freddie said lying and hoping he wouldn't figure out that she had been recording his and Will's.  
  
"Our conversation? Yours and mine?" Hannibal asked not believing her.  
  
"Yes." Freddie said.  
  
"No other conversation?"  
  
"No." Freddie said.  
  
"You were very persistent about your appointment time. How did you know when Will Graham would be here?" Hannibal asked not mentioning the woman that had been with Will. 

Freddie noticed that but choose not to question it.  
  
"I may have also recorded your session with Will Graham." Freddie instead admitted.  
  
"You didn't answer the question. How did you know?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I can't answer that question."  
  
As before Hannibal studied her, then patted the cushion of the seat next to him, beckoning her like a child or a pet.  
  
"Come. Sit by me." Hannibal said.

Freddie eyed Hannibal, not sure if she should bolt or do exactly what he told her to do. She choose the latter. Hannibal's arm is propped casually on the back of the seat, within snatching distance of Freddie's neck.  
  
"Delete the conversations you recorded. Doctor-patient confidentiality works both ways." Hannibal said.

Freddie, rattled under Hannibal's penetrative gaze, pulled her phone out of her purse, stopped it recording.  
  
"Delete it, please." Hannibal said.

She deleted the file and handed her smart phone to Hannibal. He examined it, satisfied the recordings were deleted.  
  
"You've been terribly rude, Ms Lounds. What's to be done about that?"

\--------

Hannibal's well-appointed dining room with place settings for two to find Jack sitting at the table as the good Doctor placed a loin dish elegantly presented on a plate with a blood red sauce.  
  
"Loin served with a Cumberland sauce of red fruits. Strawberries, raspberries, currants." Hannibal said.  
  
"What kind of loin?" Jack asked.  
  
"Pork." Hannibal said as he took his seat in front of his own plate of "pork".  
  
"It's rare I get a home-cooked meal. My wife and I both work. Hard as I tried not to, I married my mother." Jack said.  
  
"Your mother didn't cook?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"She cooked. I just wished she didn't. She used to make this dish she liked to call Oriental Noodles. Spaghetti, soy sauce, bouillon cubes and spam. I was a thin child." Jack said as he took another bite.

"Next time bring your wife. I'd love to have you both for dinner." Hannibal said.

Jack washed that last bite down with a swig of wine, then he said, "I'm curious why Will went back to see you after you signed off on him. He was so adamant about not going to begin with."  
  
"I lost the stick, kept the carrot." Hannibal said.  
  
"Insisting on a Psych Eval for a guy like Will Graham is hardly a stick." Jack said.  
  
"As a psychiatric professional, I feel duty-bound to point out that blackmailing somebody into therapy tends to negate positive benefits." Hannibal said.

Jack took another sip of wine and savored it. "Mmmm. This wine is delicious." Jack said.  
  
"Piorat from Catalonia." Hannibal said.  
  
"Why did he go back?" Jack asked.  
  
"A guy like Will Graham? I'm sure he recognizes the necessity of his own support structure if he's to go on supporting you in the field." Hannibal said.  
  
"Will Graham knows exactly what's going on in his head, which is why he doesn't want anyone in there." Jack said.  
  
"Are you not accustomed to broken ponies in your stable?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"You think Will's a broken pony?" Jack asked.  
  
"I think you think Will's a broken pony. You ever lost a pony, Jack?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"If you're asking if I've ever lost someone in the field, yes. Why?" Jack asked.  
  
"I want to understand why you're so delicate with Will. Because you don't trust him or because you're afraid of losing another pony?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I've had my Psych Eval." Jack said.

Hannibal smiled warmly as he said, "Not by me. You've already told me about your mother. Why stop there?"

Jack was charmed, but unbudging.

 **FBI HEADQUARTERS - EXAMINATION ROOM**  
  
The same man that was found buried alive in the woods, whose gasp for air was evidently amongst his last.  
  
"Like he's been soaking in glucose." Brian said.   
  
Brian, Jimmy, Clarice and Will hover near by wearing gloves, aprons, and splash shields.  
  
"What has he been soaking in?" Will asked.  
  
"A highly concentrated mixture of hardwoods, shredded newspaper, and pig poop. Perfect for growing mushrooms and other fungi." Jimmy said.

Clarice grimaced at the pig poop part and said, "I gathered it was some sort of poop thanks to the smell but thanks for telling us what kind of poop it was, Jimmy."  
  
"Wasn't the mushrooms. What killed all of them was kidney failure." Brian said as he covered the victim. Behind him, the other victims lie on tables of their own, each covered by a sheet.

Beverly entered carrying fists-full of I.V. bags, "Dextrose in all the catheters. He probably used some kind of dialysis or peristaltic to pump fluids after the circulatory systems broke down."  
  
"Force-feeding them sugar water." Will said.  
  
"You know who loves sugar water? Mushrooms. They crave it. As much as a mushroom can crave anything." Jimmy said.

"Oh, I was going to say cockroaches." Clarice quipped.

"Them too, Clarice." Jimmy said smiling at her.  
  
"Recovering alcoholics crave sugar," Brian said. "Don't take that personally."  
  
"I'm not recovering." Jimmy said.  
  
"Feed sugar to fungus in your body, the fungus makes alcohol. It's friends helping friends really." Brian said.  
  
"Is someone preying on recovering alcoholics? Other than themselves?" Jimmy said.  
  
"Alcoholics aren't the only ones with compromised endocrine systems," Will said. "They all died of kidney failure? Death by diabetic ketoacidosis?"

Beverly looked at Brian and asked, "Did you know they were diabetics?"  
  
"We don't know they're diabetics." Brian said.

"They're all diabetics. He induces a coma and puts them in the ground." Will said.

Beverly loved watching Will work, barely suppressing a smile as she asked, "How is he inducing diabetic comas?"  
  
"He changes their medication. He's a doctor or a pharmacist or works somewhere in medical services." Will said.  
  
"He buries them, feeds them sugar to keep them alive long enough for the circulatory systems to soak it up." Beverly said.  
  
"So he can feed the mushrooms." Jimmy said.  
  
"We dug up his mushroom garden." Brian said.  
  
"He'll want to grow a new one." Will said.

"So more kids can find it?" Clarice said. "We need to stop him before he gets the first victim."  
  
\-----------

Your friendly neighborhood Pharmacist, an unassuming man in his 50's named Eldon, handed the stapled bag to his customer.  
  
"Please sign here." Eldon Stammets said. 

The customer signed their name and moved off, prompting the next customer, an attractive woman in her 40s named Gretchen Speck, to approach the counter.

"Picking up a prescription for Gretchen Speck." Gretchen said.

Eldon moved to the S bin and retrieved a stapled bag as he asked, "Insulin?"  
  
"Yes." Gretchen said.

Eldon glanced at the prescription, offers, "Whoops. Grabbed the wrong one."  
  
"Uh-oh." Gretchen said.  
  
"Just a moment." Eldon said.

Gretchen watched Eldon step around the corner and "correct" the prescription out of sight. He returned after a moment.  
  
Eldon handed her bag and said, "There you go."  
  
"Thank you." Gretchen said.  
  
"Please sign here." Eldon said as she signed. "Is this your correct home address?"

A calm, ordinary Big Box Pharmacy. Despite the vehicles in the parking lot, the storefront is strangely quiet, deserted. After a moment, there's a small flurry of movement, armed, dark-clad figures creeping in swiftly and silently, moving along the outside of the building, weaving through parked cars, taking up positions.  
  
Will, Clarice and Jack approach the main doors of the Pharmacy like regular customers.  
  
"She's the eighth diabetic customer of the chain to disappear after filling an insulin prescription, second from this exact location." Jack said.  
  
"The other seven?" Will said.  
  
"All over the county. One pharmacist has been all over the county, too." Jack said.  
  
"A floater." Will said.  
  
"Floater's floating right here. Still logged into his work station." Jack said.  
  
Jack entered, walking confidently toward the Pharmacy counter, Will immediately behind him, as plain clothes agents herd the last customers and cashiers out the door. Jack stepped behind the counter and calmly walked inside, holding his badge very clearly in front of him, instructing the six pharmacists, "Everyone. Stop what you're doing and put your hands in the air."

The six pharmacists do as instructed, realizing there are many F.B.I. agents pointing guns at them across the counter.  
  
"I'm Special Agent Jack Crawford. Which one of you is Eldon Stammets?" Jack asked.  
  
"What's happening?" Pharmacist Manager asked.  
  
"One of your customers didn't go to work this morning after picking up a prescription here yesterday, filled by Eldon Stammets. We have reason to believe he abducted her." Jack said.  
  
"Eldon was just here. Just now." Pharmacist.

Jack signaled the F.B.I. agents and they fan out.  
  
"His car still in the parking lot?" Will asked the Pharmacist.  
  
Will smashed the driver side window of Eldon's car with a crowbar. He reached in, popped the trunk and with an grating creak, Will lifted the trunk the rest of the way open revealing it is completely filled with rich, dark soil. There's a fleeting recoil as Will, Jack, Clarice, and Brian are hit with the stench released from the compartment. Will recovered, shoveling arms-full of dirt.

Clarice recovered as well and proceeded to shovel arms full of dirt, ignoring the dirt that went down her shirt.  
  
"She's in here!" Will said as he and Clarice quickly uncovered an unconscious, naked Gretchen Speck, an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose.  
  
"E.M.T.s now." Jack ordered.

Will and Clarice stepped away from the trunk as the E.M.T.s move in. They watched as Gretchen Speck is loaded into the back of an ambulance by paramedics.  
  
"We know his name. We know where he lives. We have his car. We'll have him within 24 hours." Jack said.

Jimmy Price approached Jack and Will with some trepidation, "Jack. We just checked browser history at Stammets' work station."  
  
"Do I want to hear this?" Jack asked.  
  
"No. And yes. But mostly no." Jimmy said.

Clarice lifted an eyebrow at that as she shared a look with Will before they follow Jimmy back inside.  
  
Jack pulled up the internet browser to reveal a full screen shot of Will standing in the forest crime scene, head hung low. The headline reads “TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE.” Brian, Jimmy and Beverly are gathered around the monitor with Jack.

Beverly read what was on the screen, “ 'The FBI isn’t just hunting psychopaths, they’re head-hunting them, too, offering competitive pay and benefits in the hopes of using one demented mind to catch an'...” She trailed off when she saw Will's pallor and the livid expression on Clarice's face. "She goes into a lot of detail."  
  
"Son-of-a-bitch." Jack said.

"That's it, I am punching her when I see her again." Clarice said as she curled her hand into a fist.

**HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE**

Hannibal at his desk, tattlecrime.com on his browser pronouncing "TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE" over a picture of Will standing in the forest clearing, head hung low. He could barely see Clarice standing next to him since she was being shielded by Will, you had to look really hard to be able to see her unless you know what she looked like regardless of the fact that her face was hidden by her hair.  
  
"Oh, Miss Lounds." Hannibal said.

\---

Freddie brushed her teeth as she stooped over her laptop, checking mail. There's a flurry of muffled, cautious footsteps drumming down the hall outside. She glanced at the crack under her door and saw shadows gathering on the other side. Not good. Before she can react, BAM! The door is kicked open. Several agents bursted into her room, instantly on top of her.  
  
A female agent threw Freddie on the bed and pressed her knee into Freddie's back as she fixed the cuffs in horrible, quick moves, then hauled Freddie to her feet until she is face-to face with Jack, who stared silently at her. She remained cool as a cucumber under his gaze. At length she said, "I appreciate the pageantry, Agent Crawford, but you can’t arrest me for writing an article."  
  
"You entered a federal crime scene without permission." Jack said.  
  
"Escorted by a detective." Freddie said.  
  
"Under false pretense." Jack said.  
  
"He should have been more thorough," Freddie said. "Still, it's as good as permission."  
  
"You lied to a police officer." Jack said.

"You can't arrest me for lying." Freddie said.

Jack studied her, then considered a different tact.

"You got all that information from a local detective?" Jack asked.

Brian standing outside in the hall, listening intently with a blank expression.  
  
"Lots of talk about your man Graham. Not to mention the rivalry of who gets the collar. A local detective looking for a pissing contest with the F.B.I. might have some insight." Freddie said.  
  
"And evidently did." Jack said.  
  
"Sure did. What is it about Graham? He your psychic? Or do you consider using a psychic desperate coping?" Freddie asked eager to learn more about Graham.

Jack Crawford took out tweezers from his pocket and plucked a hair from Freddie Lounds' shoulder as he said, "Unfortunate timing of your article allowed a murderer to escape."  
  
"You're blaming my article?" Freddie asked.  
  
"You were in Minnesota. In the Shrike's Nest. You contaminated that crime scene. Everywhere you go, you contaminate crime scenes. That's obstructing justice. I can indict you for obstructing justice." Jack said.

Freddie smiled, trying to cover her nerves with charm, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't."  
  
"Don't write another word about Will Graham and I won't have to." Jack said.

**JOHNS HOPKINS HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL’S ROOM**

Will sat silently in his chair considering unconscious Abigail Hobbs, comatose in her hospital bed.  Will is sound asleep in his chair, feet propped up on an ottoman. There's a sound of approaching footsteps as Alana Bloom entered the room. She watched Will sleep a brief moment, then slipped a shoe off one foot, gently as to not disturb him. He doesn't stir. She slipped off the other shoe, quietly putting them aside. Will opened his eyes to see Alana Bloom sitting on the edge of Abigail's bed, laying next to her, reading softly. He realized he's been covered with a blanket and liked it.  
  
"What are you reading?" Will asked her.  
  
"Flannery O'Connor. When I was Abigail's age I was obsessed. I even tried to raise peacocks because she raised peacocks, but they're really stupid birds." Alana said.  
  
"You could be reading to a killer." Will said.  
  
"Innocent until guilty and all that." Alana said.  
  
"Am I making you nervous?" Will asked.  
  
"No, I'm making me nervous. I'm about to broach the subject of that "Takes One to Know One" article." Alana said.  
  
"Oh, that. Did Jack send you?" Will said as he remembered that article and then remembered what had happened after it, Clarice was ready to kick Freddie's ass for that but had to be talked done by Will and Jack.  
  
"I sent me." Alana said.  
  
"I don't think we've ever been in a room alone together. Have we?" Will said.

"I haven't noticed. Have we? Not that we're necessarily alone now. Stop trying to change the subject." Alana said.  
  
"Back to Jack Crawford's crime gimp." Will said.  
  
"I couldn't believe she wrote that." Alana said.  
  
"It's kind of hilarious." Will said.  
  
"Certainly creates an image. I don't need to talk about it if you don't." Alana said.  
  
"We can talk about or not talk about whatever you want. Honestly, I was enjoying listening to you read." Will said. 

Alana allowed herself a sincere smile as she said, "Abigail Hobbs is a success for you."  
  
Will said, good natured, not pouty, "She doesn't look like a success."  
  
"Don't feel sorry for yourself because you saved this girl's life." Alana said.  
  
"I don't. I don't feel sorry for myself at all. I feel good." Will said. 

There’s a long pregnant pause as Will soaked in the admission, relishing it for himself, questioning it.

\-------------

Freddie blew on her morning coffee to cool as she walked across the parking lot. She glanced up to see Detective Pascal sitting on her car.  
  
"I don't know where you got half that information. Wasn't from me." Pascal said.  
  
"I may have made some inferences." Freddie said.  
  
"They think I told you all of it." Pascal said.  
  
"They saw you talking to me." Freddie said.  
  
"You said you were someone's mother." Pascal said.  
  
"I'm sorry I got you fired." Freddie said.  
  
"I wasn't fired. I was suspended." Pascal said.  
  
"They're going to fire you. Jack Crawford will make sure of it." Freddie said.  
  
"You poke the hornet's nest and I'm the one who gets stung." Pascal said.  
  
"I can help you get work. Outside the force. If you want me to. I know people in private security." Freddie offered.  
  
"Not the first cop you got fired?" Pascal said  
  
"I guarantee it pays better. Right now Future You is thanking me..." Freddie said.

Behind Pascal, Eldon the Pharmacist pointed a silenced pistol. PFFT! The silencer hissed. Detective Pascal dropped. Freddie is spattered with blood. She stood frozen but for a tremble of terror. Eldon turned his gun on Freddie.  
  
\---

A shaken Freddie is attended to by Paramedics. Her blank, blood-spattered stare barely masked the trauma as Pascal's dead body is wheeled toward an expectant Ambulance. She doesn’t even look up as Jack approached.  
  
"Ms Lounds?" Jack asked.  
  
"He read my article." Freddie said.  
  
"Eldon Stammets just killed a cop, what stopped him from killing you." Jack said.

Freddie gallowed as she said, "It's a well-written article. He wants me to write another one."  
  
"He wants you to write a manifesto?" Jack asked.  
  
"Where's Will Graham?" Freddie asked.  
  
"We have an eye witness to the murder. We don't need Will Graham." Jack said.  
  
"That's not why I'm asking." Freddie said.

Jack studied her a moment, realizing, then whirled around, yelling to a subordinate, "Find Will Graham." To Freddie. "This was about Will?"  
  
"He was talking about people sharing the same properties of a fungus. Thoughts leaping from brain to brain. They mutate. They evolve." Freddie explained.  
  
"What does he want with Will Graham?" Jack asked.  
  
"Someone who understands him. Graham was right. Stammets is looking for connections." Freddie said.  
  
"What did you tell him?" Jack demanded. She doesn’t respond, eyes going distant again. "Freddie. What did you tell him about Will Graham? I need to know exactly what you said."  
  
"I told him about the Hobbs girl." Freddie said.  
  
"What did you tell him?" Jack asked.  
  
"Everything. He wants to help Will Graham connect with Abigail Hobbs. He's going to bury her." Freddie admitted.

**JOHNS HOPKINS HOSPITAL**

Eldon Stammets emerged from a door labeled men's room, strolling down the corridor now wearing green scrubs. He nonchalantly grabbed a parked gurney in the hall, pushing it toward an elevator and disappearing inside.

They open and Will Graham is revealed with Clarice Starling at his side who had joined him sometime during Alana's visit. His phone rang as they're stepping out. He answered his phone, "Hello." A moment as Will listened then his expression fell. He jammed his cell phone into his pocket and ran, his student doesn't even question his reaction as she too ran after him.  
  
Will sprinted down the hall toward Abigail's room, navigating patients and nurses in his mad dash. Will halted outside the door. Reaching into his trousers for his revolver, he took a measured step into the room. Will finds it empty. No Eldon Stammets. No Abigail Hobbs. Will's mind raced as he backed into the hallway, snatching the elbow of a passing nurse and demanding, "Where is she? Abigail Hobbs. The girl in this room. Where is she?"  
  
"They took her for tests." The nurse said.  
  
"Who took her? Who took her?" Will asked.

Nurse stammered but Will is already running for the stairs. Clarice said a quick apology before she took off after him. Will bounded down the stairs, several steps at a time with his protege right behind him.  
  
Eldon Stammets calmly pushed the gurney carrying comatose Abigail Hobbs. At the other end of the Hallway, the stairway door suddenly opened, and a winded Will and Clarice rushes out. Eldon startled, moved. Will raised his gun and fired. BLAM! The bullet took out a piece of Eldon Stammets shoulder, violently propelling him backwards, his gun clattering to the floor as he reached for it. Will pulled Abigail's gurney into the hall, moving in on Eldon, kicking his gun out of reach. Will looked down at Eldon, who is in a state of shock.  
  
"What were you going to do with her?" Will asked.  
  
"We evolved from mycelium. Only reintroducing her to the concept." Eldon said.  
  
"By burying her alive?" Will asked.  
  
"Opisthokontum. A super kingdom of animalia and fungi together. That journalist said you understood me." Eldon said.  
  
"I don't." Will said as he ignored Clarice silent cursing Freddie Lounds for her idiocy.  
  
"You would have," Eldon said. "Walk into a field of mycelium, they know you're there. Their spores reach for you when you pass by. I know who you're reaching for. You should have let me plant her. You would have found her in a field where she could finally reach back."

Will stared at Eldon a moment as the clamor of approaching footsteps, no doubt investigating gunfire, approach, then he said, "You should know I'm a terrible shot. I was trying to kill you." He tapped the emergency stop button and leaned in the doorway as a bustle of cops, nurses and paramedics approach. 

\-----------

"When you shot Eldon Stammets... who was it that you saw?" Hannibal asked as he sat opposite Will Graham.  
  
"I didn't see Hobbs." Will said.  
  
"Then it's not Hobbs' ghost that's haunting you, is it? It's the inevitability of there being a man so bad that killing him felt good." Hannibal said.  
  
"Killing Hobbs felt just." Will said.  
  
"Which is why you're here. To prove that sprig of zest you feel is from saving Abigail not killing her dad." Hannibal said.  
  
"I didn't feel a sprig of zest when I shot Eldon Stammets." Will said.  
  
"You didn't kill Eldon Stammets." Hannibal said.  
  
"I thought about killing him. I'm still not entirely sure that wasn't my intention pulling the trigger." Will admitted.  
  
"If your intention was to kill him, it's because you understand why he did the things he did. It's beautiful in it's own way. Giving voice to the unmentionable." Hannibal said.  
  
"I should have stuck to fixing boat motors in Louisiana." Will said.  
  
"A boat engine is a machine. A predictable problem, easy to solve. You fail, there's a paddle. Where was your paddle with Hobbs?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"You're supposed to be my paddle." Will said.  
  
"I am. It wasn't the act of killing Hobbs that got you down, was it? Did you really feel so bad because killing him felt so good?" Hannibal asked.

Will weighed that statement, finally admitting to Hannibal, "I liked killing Hobbs."  
  
"Killing must feel good to God, too. He does it all the time, and are we not created in his image?" Hannibal said.  
  
"Depends who you ask." Will said as he thought of Clarice.  
  
"God's terrific. He dropped a church roof on thirty-four of his worshipers last Wednesday night in Texas, while they sang a hymn." Hannibal said.  
  
"Did God feel good about that?" Will asked.  
  
"He felt powerful." Hannibal said, seizing the chance to play God himself.

\-------------------------------------

Clarice waited in the waiting room, she stared at a painting before her but it soon started to blur...her face, fighting tears. She is seeing, in her mind's eye...

~~~~

**_A screen door banged open on a wooden porch and a 10-year old girl, the young Clarice, rushed outside, down the front steps, and ran joyfully across her front yard to a car parked in the dirt road. A man, Clarice's father, had just climbed out. He's tall, handsome, and has a marshal's badge pinned on his dark suit. He grinned, when he saw her, and spread his arms wide as she rushed into them, and he swept her up in a hug, he spun her around as they laughed._ **

~~~~

Clarice was sagging in her chair, her face is buried in her arms and her shoulders shook. She jolted in surprise when she felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up to see Hannibal standing there, staring down at her.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me." Clarice said as she wiped the tears away with her hands. "I normally don't do this."

Hannibal reached down and helped her up as he pulled out a cloth from his breast pocket and gently cleaned the tears off her face, "No need to apologize, Ms Starling... Why don't we go inside my office before Will comes around and sees you like this."

Clarice laughed lightly and said, "Good idea, Doctor Lecter." And she allowed Hannibal to wrap an arm around her shoulder as he led her into his office. "I'm sorry about your cloth...I got it dirty."

"It's fine." Hannibal said. "It was merely used to wipe away your tears."

He closed the door behind them, sealing them inside along the room together...

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarice isn't in this one as much but the next one she will be :D

**Potage Part 1**

**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL HOBBS’ ROOM**

Abigail, respirator mask over her mouth, eyes rolled up, lids fluttering when she suddenly takes a sharp intake of breath. Her eyes snap wide open and she blinked to focus them. As she takes in her surroundings, widen to see her laid out in her hospital bed. Other than the respirator, and rapid beeping of the heart monitor attached to her, the floor seems quiet, deserted. 

Disoriented, her hands instinctively go to her throat, feeling the bandages wrapped around it. Panicked, she yanks off the oxygen mask, rips away at the sensors, wires, and intravenous lines attached to her, with mounting anxiety...

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE**

Will stepped out onto his porch in boxers and a t-shirt, hair tussled from recently getting out of bed. He’s followed by his pack of dogs. The dogs bound down the stairs toward the driveway and Will suddenly realized he’s not alone.

Alana was stepping out of her car to greet the dogs as they return the favor. She smiled at Will.

"Morning." Alana said.

"I didn’t hear you drive up." Will said.  
  
"Hybrid. Good car for stalking." Alana said.  
  
"I’m compelled to go cover myself." Will said.  
  
"I have brothers." Alana said.  
  
"I’ll put on a robe just the same." Will said. "Do you want a cup of coffee? And more immediately why are you here?" He turned to go back inside.  
  
"Yes. And Abigail Hobbs woke up." Alana said.

Will stopped in his tracks.

"You know how to bury the lead." Will said.  
  
"Want me to get you a cup of coffee?" Alana said

"No, I want to get my coat." Will said.  
  
"Let’s have a cup of coffee. Or tea. Maybe a nice soothing tea." Alana offered.

Will and Alana sat in his kitchen sipping tea as Will’s phone rang and rang and rang and rang and finally stopped.  
  
"Is he going to keep calling?" Will asked,  
  
"Jack wants you to go see her." Alana said.  
  
"And you don’t." Will said.  
  
"Eventually. Could help to take a step back before a step forward." Alana said.  
  
"Help who?" Will asked.  
  
When you see Abigail, and I do think you should see her, I want it to be on your terms. I want you to get what you need. I want Abigail to get what she needs. What Jack needs, I’m not as concerned about." Alana said.

Will smiled at her bulldoggishness in his defense.  
  
"I don’t want to get in the middle of you and Jack, but if I can be helpful to you as a buffer..." Alana continued to say.  
  
"I like you as a buffer. I also like the way you rattle Jack. He respects you too much to yell at you no matter how much he wants to." Will said with a faint smile.  
  
"And I take advantage of that." Alana said.

Will turned the subject back to what he’s most concerned with.  
  
"Abigail Hobbs doesn’t have anyone." Will said.

"You can’t be her everyone. Don’t have to draw a line, but you might want to know where your line is." Alana said.

"Keep my distance?" Will asked.

She considered how to respond to that, then she said, "When I said what I was going to say in my head, it sounded insulting. I’ll find another way to say it."  
  
"Say it the insulting way." Will said.  
  
"Dogs keep a promise a person can’t." Alana said.  
  
"I’m not collecting another stray." Will said.  
  
"I told you it was insulting." Alana said.  
  
"I get it. I can trust a dog to be a dog, but I can’t trust Abigail Hobbs to be who I think she is." Will said.  
  
"The first person Abigail talks to about what happened can’t be anyone who was there when it happened. That means no Dr. Lecter, either." Alana said. "Clarice might be a good choice because she was outside during that time."  
  
"Much less the guy who killed Dad." Will said. "And as for Clarice, she might not go because even though she didn't witness it, she was still there..."  
  
"Let me reach out to her my own way." Alana said. "But call Clarice in case she wants to go talk to Abigail."

**Clarice Starling's House**

The sound of a phone ringing awoke Clarice from her slumber, she rolled over and groggily groped for her phone. Once she found it, she answered it and placed it against her ear without opening her eyes.

"Hello?"

"Morning, Clarice," Will said from the other end. "Did I wake you?"

Clarice opened her eyes and looked at the time, "No, I was awake."

"You're a bad liar, Clarice."

"Of course I am," Clarice said as she stifled a yawn. "So what can I do for you, Will?"

"Abigail just woke up from her coma," Will said. "Alana had just told me."

Clarice sat up when she heard that and pushed her hair back, out of her face, "Did she tell just as bluntly as you told me? Because you both need to work on your bed side manners... They suck."

"Sorry," Will said. "Do you want to see her?"

"No," Clarice answered without even thinking about it. "At least not yet, I can still see her mother in my head... Cold with blood everywhere..."

"I told her that you might not go," Will said. "I'll let you get ready, I'll see you later."

"Okay, bye." Clarice said before she ended the call. Then she got up to take a shower and get dressed, after she feed her cat who had been eye balling her while she talked to Will on the phone. 

She didn't fancy losing another sock to that damn cat...

**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL**

Alana waddled down the corridor, as she struggled to hold onto the several shopping bags that she carried.  
  
Alana entered as quietly as possible, given the circumstances, to find Abigail Hobbs sitting up in bed, reading a book, exhausted, vacant, looking like she just woke up from a coma.  
  
"Hi. I’m Alana Bloom." Alana said as she unloaded the shopping bags on the couch.  
  
"Are you a doctor?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Not medicine. I’m a psychiatrist." Alana said.  
  
"What do you specialize in?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Among other things, family trauma." Alana said.  
  
"I asked the nurses if my parents were dead and they wouldn’t tell me. Said I had to wait for you." Abigail said.

Alana sat on the edge of Abigail’s bed as she said, "I’m sorry you had to wait."  
  
"I know they’re dead," Abigail said. Alana studied her and the strange admission, Abigail’s chin crumpled with emotion but she fought it. "Who buried them?"  
  
"They haven’t been buried." Alana said.  
  
Abigail looked at her and asked, "Don’t you think they should be?"  
  
"Your mother was cremated per the instructions in her living will." Alana said.

An almost imperceptible scoff, then Abigail said, " 'Living' Will. My dad?"  
  
"Your father is more complicated." Alana said in a hesitated manner.  
  
"Because he was crazy?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Nurses said you didn’t remember." Alana said.  
  
"I remember. I just didn’t want to talk about it with them," Abigail said. "Is this your book?"  
  
"I was reading it to you." Alana said. 

"I started turning pages. Felt like I read it before. I remember your voice and dreaming about peacocks," Abigail said. "Aren’t they really stupid birds?"

Alana realized Abigail is quoting her conversation with Will and answered, "Yes."  
  
"I want to sell the house. I guess it’s mine now. I can use the money for college, get an apartment." Abigail said.

Alana studied Abigail and her surprising practicality.  
  
Abigail looked at the shopping bags and asked, "What’re all those?"  
  
Alana looked at them as well and said, "Brought you some clothes. Thought a change would feel good. I guessed your size. Anything you don’t want keep the tags on. I’ll return it. And I brought you some music, too."  
  
"Your music?" Abigail asked.  
  
"If there isn’t anything you like, I got a stack of iTunes gift cards. I’ve got a stack of gift cards. I don’t do well redeeming gift cards." Alana said.  
  
"Probably says something about you." Abigail said.

"Probably does." Alana said.

**JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE**

Alana and Hannibal sat across from Jack in his office.  
  
"I have 7 families waiting, let me rephrase, demanding that we find whatever’s left of their daughters. Abigail Hobbs is the only person I can ask who might know the truth." Jack said.  
  
"You can’t ask her right now. We have to create a safe place for her first or you won’t get any answers." Alana said.  
  
"I respect your sympathy for her, Doctor Bloom. One day I hope you’ll appreciate my lack of it." Jack said as he looked at her.  
  
"I have some appreciation." Alana said.  
  
"Only body we found is the one Hobbs didn’t eat. 7 bodies. 7 girls." Jack said.  
  
"7 sisters, in Abigail’s mind. When she learns of her father’s crimes." Hannibal said.  
  
"May already know about them. Her DNA’s all over his slaughterhouse." Jack said.  
  
"You really think Abigail helped her father kill those girls?" Alana asked.  
  
"It is one possibility that needs to be ruled out. If she didn’t help her father, she may know who did." Jack said.

Hannibal looked at Alana and asked, "How was Abigail? When you saw her?"  
  
"Surprisingly practical." Alana said.  
  
"Suspiciously practical?" Jack asked.  
  
"I would suggest she can be practical without being a murderer." Hannibal said.  
  
"I think she’s hiding something." Alana said.  
  
"It may simply be her trauma." Hannibal said.  
  
"Yes. Could also be more. She has a penchant for manipulation, withheld information to gain information. She demonstrated only enough emotions to prove she had them." Alana said.  
  
"Appreciating my lack of sympathy?" Jack asked her.  
  
"Providing psychological evaluation." Alana said.  
  
"You said it may be more than trauma yet you question her involvement in the murders her father committed." Hannibal said.  
  
"What I’m questioning is her state of mind. She repeated something I said when she was... unconscious." Alana said.  
  
"Leading you to believe she wasn’t." Jack said.  
  
"Leading me to believe it was odd." Alana said.  
  
"It is odd, but not unheard of for the comatose or anesthetized to recall word for word conversations that took place in their presence." Hannibal said.  
  
"I want Will Graham to talk to her." Jack said.  
  
"Jack. Not yet." Alana said. "Clarice would be the best bet."  
  
"Doctor Bloom, you’re not Will’s psychiatrist. Doctor Lecter is." Jack said. "And Clarice will be with Will, she's his protege after all."  
  
"For intents and purposes, yes, but I’m not entirely objective on this. Will and I share a compassion for Abigail Hobbs, we saved her life." Hannibal said.  
  
"Then who better to create a safe place for her to answer questions." Jack said.

 **F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HAL** L

A succession of photos of young women, similar in appearance.

"Garret Jacob Hobbs abducted and murdered eight girls over an eight month period. They each had the same hair color. Same eye color." Will said as he stands in front of his classroom. "Same age, same height, same weight as his daughter Abigail. But there was a ninth victim who fit Abigail Hobbs’ profile but Garret Jacob Hobbs didn’t murder her." A picture of Cassie Boyle, impaled on the antlers of a severed stag head, her death a grotesque work of art. Clarice winced as she remembered that day, she had lost her lunch and became a Vegan. "The killer who did wanted us to know he wasn’t the Minnesota Shrike. He was better than that. He is an intelligent psychopath. He is a sadist. He will never kill like this again. So how do we catch him?"   
  
Jack and Hannibal enter, the reflective light of the projection screen bounces off their faces. Clarice's eyes are drawn to the tall form of Hannibal but she quickly snaps out of it and looked away. In hushed tones the two men start to talk.   
  
"Giving a lecture on Hobbs’ Copy Cat?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Need every mind on this we can get." Jack said.  
  
"This Copy Cat is an avid reader of Freddie Lounds and TattleCrime.com. He had intimate knowledge of Garret Jacob Hobbs’ murders. Motives, patterns. Enough to recreate them and arguably elevate them. To art." Will said. A picture of Abigail and Garret Jacob Hobbs in happier times on a hunting expedition. "How intimately did he know Garret Jacob Hobbs? Did he appreciate him from afar, or did he engage him? Did he ingratiate himself into Hobbs’ life? Did Hobbs know his Copy Cat as he knew him?" A picture of Louise Hobbs, her throat sliced open, lying in a dark pool of her own blood. "Before Garret Jacob Hobbs murdered his wife and attempted to do the same to his daughter, he received an untraceable call, re-routed through a swatting service." A picture of Garret Jacob Hobbs, bloodied and filled with bullets, slumped dead in the corner of his kitchen. "I believe the as-yet unidentified caller was our Copy Cat Killer."  
  
"Brilliant." Hannibal murmured.

**Clarice's House**

Clarice was at her favorite coffee place and eating a cinnamon roll when her phone rang, vibrating on the table. She puts down the fork and wiped her mouth with a napkin before she picked up her phone and answered, "Hello? Clarice Starling speaking."

"Hello, Angel." Anthony Darby's voice from the other end of the cell, he was her adopted father and a Homicide Detective of the Scotland Yard.

Clarice smiled when she heard that familiar English accent, "Hey, Dad...how are you?"

"I'm good, Angel." Anthony said.

"What can I do for you, Dad?" Clarice asked as she took a sip of her coffee.

"Oh, nothing, Angel...just wanted to see how you where doing in your studies."

"Good, I haven't hit something that got me stuck." Clarice said.

Anthony chuckled and said, "Excellent, you must have gotten your intelligence from your mothers."

She smiled at that, "Thank you and I got my instincts from my fathers."

"Such a sweet and well mannered girl that we have." Anthony said with a smile. "I wanted you to know that your mother and I will be coming there for a social party and to visit you as well."

"Alright, I will see you when I see you." Clarice said before she said good bye to him and hanged up, she finished her roll and threw away the plate and fork then walked out of the coffee shop carrying her mocha. She headed towards her car, she unlocked it and climbed inside. Clarice put her paper coffee cup into the cup holder as she put her purse on the passenger seat, she closed the door and started the engine. The Dodge Charger RT turned with a roar, she smiled as she slipped on her black aviator sunglasses and drove out of the parking space and out of the parking lot.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe, Clarice and Freddie interaction....

**Potage Part 2**

**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL HOBBS’ ROOM**

Abigail sits upright in bed, senses on alert.  
  
"So you’re not a doctor or a nurse or a psychiatrist?" Abigail asked.  
  
Freddie was standing across from her as she said, "I’m a journalist. I want to tell the truth. Your truth. Sometimes that involves some deception. But know this, I will never lie to you."  
  
"Sounds like what a liar would say." Abigail said.  
  
"You have every right not to trust me, but in time, Abigail, I hope you let me prove that you can," Freddie said. "If you tell me what you know, I can help you fill in the blanks."  
  
"Why not tell me what you know." Abigail said.  
  
"Your dad was the Minnesota Shrike," Freddie said. "Your mother wasn’t the first person your father killed. He killed 8 girls. 8 girls that look..."  
  
"Just like me." Abigail interrupted her.  
  
"Yes." Freddie said.

Abigail reeled from the larger meaning of that.  
  
"Why did they call him the Shrike?" Abigail asked.  
  
"It’s a bird that impales its prey, harvests its organs to eat later." Freddie explained.  
  
"He ate them?" Abigail asked.

Freddie nodded her head and said, "He was sick."  
  
"Does that mean I’m sick, too?" Abigail asked.  
  
"You’ll be fighting that perception. Perception is the most important thing in your life right now." Freddie said.  
  
"I don’t care what anyone thinks." Abigail said.  
  
"You better start caring, Abigail. What you remember, what you tell everyone, is going to define the rest of your life. Let me help you." Freddie said.  
  
"Help me what?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Carve a path in this world so you can survive what your father did. And not be held accountable." Freddie said.

Abigail absorbs the brunt of that truth as she asked, "How did they catch him?"  
  
"A man named Will Graham. Works for the FBI but isn’t FBI. He catches insane men because he can think like them. Because he is insane." Freddie said.

At that moment Will Graham, Clarice Starling, Hannibal Lecter and two hospital orderlies enter.  
  
"Speak of the devil." Freddie said.  
  
"Would you excuse us, please?" Will asked as he discreetly held Clarice's tan leather cladded arm, silently telling her not to punch the red haired woman. Looked like he had remembered her threat of punching Freddie in the face but that was okay because Clarice had also remembered it and was ready to follow through with her threat.  
  
"I’m not leaving you alone with her." Freddie said.

"That should be our line, Miss Lounds." Clarice snapped out as Will nodded to the Orderlies, who then flank Freddie.

Will looked at Abigail and said, "I’m Special Agent Will Graham."

As Freddie is escorted to the door, she said, "By Special Agent, he means not really an Agent. He didn’t get past the screening process." She looked at Will which earned her a dirty look from Clarice. "Too unstable."  
  
"I must insist you leave the room." Hannibal said before Clarice could follow through with the punch her expression was promising that she would give the red headed woman.

Before leaving, Freddie offered Abigail a business card as she said, "If you want to talk..."

Will snatched the card without saying a word, Freddie doesn’t offer any more resistance as the Orderlies escort her out.  
  
"Abigail, this is Doctor Lecter and Clarice Starling... Do you remember us?" Will asked

"I remember you." Abigail said. "You killed my dad."  
  
That comment hanged there a moment, a weighted memory, then Hannibal said, "You’ve been in a bed for 3 weeks, Abigail. Why don’t we have a walk?"

\-----------------

Abigail walked weak-legged, supported by Hannibal and Will. Clarice was walking behind her in case the girl falls backwards.  
  
"I’m sorry we couldn’t save your mother. We did everything we could, but she was already gone." Will said.

Tears sting Abigail’s eyes, threatening to spill, but don’t.  
  
"I know. I saw him kill her." Abigail said.  
  
"You saw it?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"It was sort of like seeing it." Abigail said.  
  
"There was no vocabulary for your mind to articulate the violence." Hannibal said.  
  
"Didn’t seem real. He was loving right up until the second he wasn’t. He kept telling me he was sorry and to just hold still. He was going to make it all go away." Abigail said.  
  
"There was plenty wrong with your father, Abigail, but there’s nothing wrong with you. You said he was loving. I believe it. That’s what you brought out in him." Will said.  
  
"It’s not all I brought out in him." Abigail said.  
  
"Did he tell you about the young women he murdered?" Hannibal asked.  
  
Abigail goes silent and Will and Clarice shot Hannibal a look.  
  
"You don’t have to answer that right now, if you don’t want to." Will said.  
  
"But we will have to ask you those questions eventually." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’m going to be messed up, aren’t I? I’m worried about nightmares." Abigail said.  
  
"We’ll help you with the nightmares." Hannibal said.  
  
"There’s no such thing as getting used to what you experienced. It bothers me a lot. I can only imagine how it bothers you when I see it over and over in my mind." Will said. "I worry about nightmares, too."  
  
"Do you have nightmares about killing my dad?" Abigail said.  
  
"Sometimes it’s hard for me to dream about much else." Will said.  
  
"Killing somebody, even if you have to do it, it feels that bad?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Ugliest thing in the world." Will said.

Hannibal eyed Will, knowing he’s not telling the whole truth.

Abigail took Will’s words in for a brief moment, then she said, "I want to go home."

Clarice finally speaks up, "You will, Abigail... Right now you need to heal up." She offered a gentle, comforting smile to Abigail when she looked at her.

\---

Freddie leaned on the hood of Hannibal’s midnight blue Bentley, waiting. She spotted Hannibal, Clarice and Will as they approach and quickly stood, almost respectfully. Clarice eyed the woman as she looked at Will to see his reaction, he didn't look too pleased to see her either.  
  
"Special Agent Graham, I never formally introduced myself." Freddie said as she offers her hand to Will. "I’m Freddie Lounds."  
  
"Trying to salvage this joke from the mouth of madness?" Will asked.  
  
"Please. Let me apologize for my behavior in there. It was sloppy and misguided. And hurtful." Freddie said.

Clarice scoffed at that but doesn't say anything, instead she crossed her arms over her chest as she gave the other woman an entirely unimpressed look.

Hannibal stepped in front of Clarice as he said, "Miss Lounds, now isn’t the time."

Freddie ignored Hannibal as she said to Will, "Look, you and I may have our own reasons for being here, but I also think we both genuinely care what happens to Abigail Hobbs."  
  
"You told her I was insane." Will said.  
  
"I can un-do that." Freddie said.

Clarice stepped around Hannibal as she said, "You think Abigail is going to forget what you said about Professor Graham? Highly unlikely... And that goes to your readers as well."  
  
"You help Abigail see me as more than her father’s killer and I help you with online ad sales?" Will asked as he gently pushed Clarice behind him since she and Freddie were now glaring at each other. Clarice may have that legendary Southern politeness but only to those who haven't earned her ire.  
  
"I can un-do what I said. I can also make it a lot worse." Freddie threatened.  
  
"Miss Lounds, it’s not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living." Will threatened.

Hannibal sighed at Will’s unfortunate choice of words while Clarice slapped her forehead lightly.

**JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE**

Jack sat behind his desk reading off his computer screen, " 'It’s not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living'." He looked at the four people sitting in front of him. "Know what else isn’t very smart?" He addressed the silent Will sitting across from him. Clarice was sitting next to Will with her arms crossed, obviously still angry about Freddie. Hannibal and Alana sat on either side of Will and Clarice, mutually concerned. Jack looked at Hannibal and said, "You were there with him and you let those words come out of his mouth."  
  
"I trust Will to speak for himself." Hannibal said.  
  
"Evidently, you shouldn’t." Jack said.  
  
"I’m just happy the story wasn’t about Abigail Hobbs." Alana said.

"How can you be happy by that?" Clarice snapped at Alana as she turned her head to look at the other woman, angry at her for even saying that. "Miss Lounds writes another article about Will and all you can say is 'I'm just happy the story wasn't about Abigail Hobbs'." She gave Alana a disgusted look. "She'll get to Abigail Hobbs sooner or later."

"Then it’s a victory." Jack said after he gave Clarice a stern look who doesn't really shrink under his stare but she does lower her head. "Abigail Hobbs wants to go home. Let’s take Abigail Hobbs home."  
  
"What Abigail wants and what she needs are two different things. Taking her out of a controlled environment would be reckless." Alana said.  
  
"You said she was practical." Jack said.  
  
"That could just mean she has a dissociative disorder." Will said.  
  
"You take her home, she may experience intense emotions, respond aggressively. Or reenact some aspect of the traumatic event without even realizing it." Alana said.

Jack looked at Hannibal and said, "Doctor Lecter?"  
  
"Doctor Bloom is right, but there is a scenario where revisiting the trauma event could help Abigail heal and actually prevent denial." Hannibal said.  
  
"We have a difference of opinion, therefore I’m choosing the opinion that best serves my agenda." Jack said.  
  
"Will killed her father to save her life. If she sees Will as her savior and he doesn’t meet her expectations, she could transfer rage toward her father onto him." Alana said.  
  
"He’ll deal with it." Jack said. "I want to know if Will’s right about our Copy Cat."  
  
"That the Copy Cat called the Hobbs house before the murders?" Hannibal asked.

Jack nodded.  
  
"We have no way of knowing what’s waiting for her when she goes home." Alana said.

Clarice stood up and tugged her jacket down as she said, "And we'll be there for her..."

**MINNESOTA COFFEE BAR LOCATION**

Nicholas Boyle sat at a table as Freddie Lounds approached with two cups of coffee, sitting one down in front of him.  
  
"Thanks again for meeting me. I know this hasn’t been easy for you." Freddie said.  
  
"How would you know?" Nick asked.  
  
"I’ve been writing about Garret Jacob Hobbs. I’ve spoken to relatives of his other victims." Freddie said.  
  
"Hobbs is dead. Deserved a lot worse. Him and his whole family." Nick said.  
  
"There has to be some small comfort that justice was served." Freddie said.  
  
"Comfort? My sister was impaled on a severed stag head. Cut down the middle. He pulled her lungs out while she was still breathing." Nick snapped out.  
  
"I’m sorry, I am, but you have to try not to remember her that way." Freddie said.  
  
"What do you want from me?" Nick demanded.  
  
"I just thought you should know Abigail Hobbs came out of her coma." Freddie told Nick.

Nick Boyle took that in...

**HOBBS RESIDENCE**

An expensive rental car pulled into the driveway, Hannibal behind the wheel. All four doors open and Hannibal, Will, Clarice, Alana and Abigail step out to consider the Hobbs home. They see a 8 foot tall letters scrawled across the front of the house, graffiti style, the word CANNIBALS.

Clarice looked at the words, taking them in, before she looked away disgusted.

As Will, Clarice Hannibal and Alana look on, Abigail stared at the faded rust-colored stain on the front step, where her mother died, her eyes brimming with tears but not overflowing.  
  
"I was sort of expecting a body outline in chalk or tape." Abigail said.  
  
"They only do that if you’re still alive and taken to the hospital before they finish the crime scene." Will said.

Those words wash over Abigail, she’s barely aware of them.  
  
"Goodbye, mom." Abigail said.  
  
The door opened in the darkened space. Alana and Abigail enter while Hannibal, Clarice and Will float closely behind.  
  
Abigail lingered in the doorway of the kitchen. The room is more or less scrubbed, thoroughly gone over by cleaners.  
  
"If you ever want to go, you just have to say so and we will go." Alana said.  
  
"Go where? Back to the hospital?" Abigail asked.  
  
"For now." Alana said.

Alana and Hannibal hang back and allow Will to follow Abigail into the kitchen, Clarice also hanged back. She noticed all the family pictures on the refrigerator have been turned around.  
  
"They turned all the pictures over." Abigail said.  
  
"Crime scene cleaners will do that." Alana said.

She glanced at the clean table and the linoleum floor as she asked, "They did a really good job. Is that where all my blood was?"  
  
"Yes." Will said.

Abigail wrapped her head around that.  
  
"You do this all the time? Go places and think about killing?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Too often." Will said.  
  
"So you pretended to be my dad?" Abigail asked.  
  
"And people like your dad." Will said.  
  
"What did that feel like? To be him?" Abigail asked.  
  
"If feels like I’m talking to his shadow suspended on dust." Will answered.  
  
"You think you knew him?" Abigail asked.  
  
"I tried to know him. I still try." Will said.  
  
"Even after you killed him?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Maybe even because I killed him." Will said.

Alana studied Will, realizing how difficult this is for him.   
  
"No wonder you have nightmares." Abigail said.  
  
"We should discuss your nightmare." Hannibal said.

Clarice is watching Will silently with her arms crossed over her chest, she had nightmares as well but it didn't mean she was going to share the fact that she did with Abigail... Not because she didn't trust her but because Clarice didn't want to rub salt on an old wound.  
  
"The attacks on you and your mother, they were different. Desperate. Your dad knew he was out of time. Someone told him we were coming." Will said.  
  
"The man on the phone?"  Abigail asked.  
  
"It was a blocked call. Did you recognize his voice?" Will asked.  
  
"I had never heard it before." Abigail said with a small, almost imperceptible glance at Hannibal.  
  
"Was there anybody new in your father’s life. Someone you met or someone he talked about." Alana asked.

Abigail shook her head “no”.  
  
"He may have been contacted by another serial killer, a copy cat." Will said.  
  
"Someone who’s still out there?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Yes." Will said.

Abigail realizing her nightmare isn’t over...  
  
Outside Will, Clarice, Alana and Abigail scrubbed with soap and brush the graffiti letters spelling “CANNIBALS”. Hannibal delivered a bucket of soapy water, the extent of his hard labor. Clarice paused in her work to look at the bucket then at him before she laughed and started to scrub again, shaking her head.  
  
"Can you catch somebody’s crazy?" Abigail asked.  
  
" _Folie a deux_." Alana said.  
  
"What?" Abigail asked.  
  
"A French psychiatric term. “Madness shared by two"." Alana explained.

Will’s breathing and heart beat grow deafening in his ears as he stared at the door then Will snapped back to reality, continuing to scrub the graffiti off the side of the house. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Clarice look at him before she went back to scrubbing.  
  
"One can not be delusional if the belief in question is accepted as ordinary by others in that person’s culture or subculture. Or family." Hannibal said.  
  
"My dad didn’t seem delusional. He was a perfectionist. After he skinned a deer, he would pluck the loose hair. Most people use a torch. Dad would remove all the hair by hand. He wanted to make sure he got every one of them." Abigail said.  
  
"Your dad left almost no evidence." Will said.  
  
"Is that why you let me come home? To find evidence?" Abigail asked.  
  
"It was one of many considerations." Hannibal said.

"Are we going to re-enact the crime?" Abigail asked then to Will and Alana. "You be my dad. You be my mom." Then to Hannibal. "And you be the man on the phone."

Uncharacteristically, Hannibal is caught off guard by that. More so by Abigail’s steely nonchalant stare that followed. Clarice missed the look as she continued to clean the wall, humming softly as she worked. She wasn't at all bothered by the fact that she wasn't included in that.  
  
"We wanted you to come home to help you leave home behind." Alana said.  
  
"You’re not going to find any of those girls, you know." Abigail said.  
  
"Why do you say that?" Will asked.  
  
"He’d honor every part of them. Made plumbers putty out of elk bones. At least that’s what he told us. You know, to seal threads. Whatever bones were left of those girls is probably holding pipes together." Abigail explained.  
  
"Where did he make this putty?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"At the cabin. I can show you." Abigail said.  
  
"Abigail... there’s someone here." Alana said suddenly.

Abigail turned to find Marissa (Abigail’s age) standing behind her.  
  
"Hey, Abigail." Marissa said.  
  
"Hey." Abigail said.

\---

Abigail and Marissa walked the stream that ran like a scar through the yard. Marissa nodded at Abigail’s bandaged neck.  
  
"Does it hurt?" Marissa asked.

"Sometimes." Abigail said.  
  
"I thought it was TV. But I was watching Applejack and Twilight and they don’t scream like that. And then there was all this shooting. Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang. Very surreal, very public. Everybody on the block was on the news and then everybody at school. Whores." Marissa said.  
  
"They won’t let me online." Abigail said.  
  
"You don’t want to be online. It’s all “The family that preys together stays together.” But prey is with an E instead of an A because..." Marrisa said.

Abigail cut her off by asking, "Did you talk to the news?"  
  
"No. My mom doesn’t want me talking to you, much less the news." Marissa said.

Marissa glanced over her shoulder looking out for her mother.  
  
"Since when do you listen to her." Abigail said.  
  
"Clearly I’m not listening to her if I’m here talking to you. You know everybody thinks you did it." Marissa said.  
  
"I read the front of my house." Abigail said.  
  
"Those bitches from pep squad." Marissa  
  
"Do you think I did it?"  
  
"I don’t think you’re the type. But I didn’t think your dad was the murder-suicide type. Although the hunting should have been a clue." Marissa said.  
  
"Mine or his?" Abigail said.  
  
"Both, now that you mention it." Marissa said then clarifying. "I don’t think you did it."  
  
"I do." A man's voice said.  
  
The girls looked over to see a man in his mid-20s.  
  
"This is private property." Abigail said.  
  
"You were the bait. Is that how it worked? Lure ‘em back to daddy for dinner? How’d you trap my sister? Chat her up? Say things girls say?" The man asked.  
  
"Piss. Off." Marissa said as she picked up a rock and threw it at the man. He sidestepped to avoid her stone, continued to harass.  
  
"You help dad cut my sister’s lungs out while she was still using them?" Nick asked.

Marissa threw another rock, striking Nick across his forehead, leaving a small gash. He stumbled, briefly silenced. When he looked up, clutching his bloody head wound, his looked right at Marissa, murder in his eyes then he reacted and quickly turned and ran. Marissa and Abigail turn to see Will, Clarice and Hannibal approaching from around the house. Alana and Marissa's mother (early 40s) follow immediately behind. Abigail turned back around to look at Nick, but Nick is already gone.  
  
"Who was that?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Somebody’s brother." Abigail said.  
  
"Marissa. Come home." Marissa's mother said.

Hannibal studied Marissa’s rude behavior as she snapped at her mother, "Stop being such a bitch." She looked at Abigail. "See you later."  
  
"Bye." Abigail said.  
  
Hannibal and Will stomp through the forest, returning from looking for Nick Boyle.  
  
"He’s gone." Will said.

Hannibal’s eyes fall to a bloodied rock on the embankment near the stream. As he turned to meet Will, his foot inconspicuously kicks a few dead leaves to cover the stone.  
  
"You’ve never seen him before?" Will asked Abigail.  
  
"No. Have you?" Abigail asked.

Will shook his head “no”.  
  
"We should report this, yes?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Yes." Will said.

**MOTEL ROOM**

Clarice knocked on Abigail's door and a few seconds later, the girl opened the door.

"Oh, hello..." Abigail trailed off, unsure how to address the older woman.

"Clarice," Clarice said with a smile. "May I come in?"

"Yes, of course," Abigail said as she stepped to the side. "Sorry."

Clarice stepped passed her and into her room, "It's okay, I dropped by unexpected." She turned to face the young woman. "I just wanted to talk to you to see how you were holding up."

"I'm fine, thank you," Abigail said as she sat down on the bed. "Where you there when my dad killed my mother and tried to kill me?" 

Clarice sat down next to Abigail, "Yes but I was outside with your mother so I only found out about what happened inside from Doctor Lecter and Will."

"So what do you do exactly?" Abigail asked as she leaned towards the woman. "I always see you with Special Agent Graham."

"I'm his student and protege," Clarice said. "Basically he's teaching me how to read serial killers."

"Do you have the same ability as he does?" Abigail asked.

Clarice shrugged her shoulders and said, "Kind of but it's hard to explain. In fact, I'm sure that I'll just bore you to tears." She smiled at Abigail. "Let's talk about something else, those dark, sad times can wait until tomorrow."

Abigail nodded her head in agreement and said, "Good idea."

They talked well into the night until both could barely keep their eyes open so Clarice left for her own room to get some sleep before she had to go to the cabin of horrors tomorrow with Abigail.

 **MOTEL ROOM**  
  
Will is startled awake in his bed at the abrasive drone of the alarm clock, drenched with sweat. Will peeled off his wet t-shirt and shuffled to the curtains to let a blast of daylight into the darkened room.

\---  
  
Two local police cars lead Hannibal’s expensive rental car down the driveway as they pull in front of the cabin. Once again, all four doors open and Hannibal, Clarice, Will, Alana and Abigail step out of the car, taking in the cabin. A local detective and two police officers remove the crime scene tape obstructing the door and allow Hannibal, Clarice, Will, Alana and Abigail to enter. They wait respectfully outside.

The door opened and Abigail stepped inside as Will wadded up the crime scene tape in a loose ball and tossed it aside.  
  
"He cleaned everything. He said he was afraid of germs but I guess he was just afraid of getting caught." Abigail said.  
  
"No one else ever came up here with your dad? Except you?" Will asked she shook her head “no”. "Ever help him make plumbing putty?"  
  
"He made everything by himself. Plumbing putty, glue, butter. He sold the pelts on ebay or in town. He made pillows. Carved knives out of leg bones. No parts went to waste. Otherwise it was murder." Abigail said. "Was feeding them to us, wasn’t he?"

No one responded to that immediately, then Hannibal said, "It’s very likely."

Clarice grimaced at that but doesn't say anything.

Abigail crossed to the gutting/skinning table.  
  
"Before he cut my throat, he told me he killed those girls so he wouldn’t have to kill me." Abigail said.  
  
"You’re not responsible for anything your father did, Abigail." Alana said.  
  
"If he would have just killed me, none of those girls would be dead." Abigail said. A single drop of blood fell from the ceiling onto Abigail’s cheek. She wiped it off with her fingertip and stared at it a brief moment before glancing up.

\---

Will, Clarice, Hannibal and Alana as they stare at something horrifying. Will then spoke into his phone, "I need ERT at the Hobbs Cabin."  
  
A young woman hangs naked, impaled on a rack of antlers. Will approached and slowly lifted the young woman’s head, it’s Marissa. Abigail has climbed the stairs behind Hannibal and Alana. Her eyes go wide, realizing what has happened. 

Abigail’s scream snapped Clarice out of her horror as she turned to hug the girl to her, pressing her face against her chest so that she didn't have to see her friend anymore...


	10. Chapter 10

**Potage Part 3**

Police cars and police officers everywhere. An police officer un-spooling a temporary barricade of yellow police tape. Abigail is being comforted by Alana along the edge of the woods as the crime scene investigators move in and out of the Hobbs cabin. An F.B.I. S.U.V. barreled down the dirt road. Abigail and Alana watch as Jack stepped out.  
  
Will is staring at Marissa’s naked corpse. Hannibal behind him with Clarice hovering nearby as she stared at Will. The doctor took advantage of her distraction to glance at her but when she looked at him, he looked away. Will examined Marissa’s swollen lip as Hannibal admired the handiwork of her killer.  
  
"Do you think she knew him?" Will said.  
  
"Her killer?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Abigail. Do you think she knew the guy down by the stream?" Will asked.  
  
"Somebody’s brother?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Not somebody. She said he asked her if she helped her dad take his sister’s lungs while she was alive." Will said.  
  
"The young woman on the stag head." Hannibal said.  
  
"Cassie Boyle. She had a brother. Nicholas. But Garret Jacob Hobbs didn’t kill Cassie Boyle." Will said.  
  
With gloved hands and plastic tools, Will respectfully levered Marissa’s jaw wide. Wielding a LED flashlight with alternative light source, he shined it into Marissa’s mouth.  
  
"I know," Hannibal said. "Garret Jacob Hobbs would have honored every part of her."  
  
Jack climbed the stairs, already frustrated. Clarice looked at him but she doesn't smile at him, not even her smile could calm Jack down.  
  
"You bring Abigail Hobbs back to Minnesota to find out if she had anything to do with her father’s murders and another girl dies." Jack said.

Will tried to ignore Jack’s frustrations, pushing forward on the forensic investigation at hand and said, "There’s talcum on her lip. He was wearing gloves when he hit her. Split the latex on her tooth."  
  
"You said the Copy Cat was an intelligent psychopath. No traceable motive. No patterns. He would never kill like this again." Jack said.  
  
"I may have been wrong about that." Will said.  
  
"Garret Jacob Hobbs didn’t hit girls. Why would his Copy Cat?" Jack asked.  
  
"He was provoked." Hannibal said.  
  
"Scraped his knuckle on her teeth. There’s foreign tissue and what could be trace amounts of blood." Will said.  
  
"Where was Abigail Hobbs when this girl was murdered?" Jack asked.  
  
"In her hotel room." Will said.  
  
"Where were you?" Jack asked Will.  
  
"I fell asleep early." Will said.  
  
"So you don’t know if she was in her hotel room or not." Jack said.  
  
"We believe Nicholas Boyle murdered this girl. And his own sister." Hannibal said.  
  
"With or without Abigail Hobbs?" Jack asked.  
  
"Without." Will said.  
  
"Did Abigail Hobbs know Cassie Boyle? Did she know Nicholas Boyle?" Jack asked.  
  
"No." Will said.  
  
"Don’t think she knows them or you don’t want to think she knows them?"  
  
"She said she didn’t know them." Will said.  
  
"Doctor Bloom said Abigail Hobbs has a penchant for manipulation. Is she manipulating you, Will?" Jack said.  
  
"Agent Crawford." Hannibal said.  
  
"You tell me you were wrong about Hobbs’ Copy Cat. I want to know what else you were wrong about." Jack said as he ignored Hannibal.  
  
"Whoever killed the girl in the field, killed this girl. I’m right about that. He knew exactly how to mount the body. Wound patterns are almost identical to Cassie Boyle. The same design, same humiliation." Will said.  
  
"Abigail Hobbs isn’t a killer but she could be the target of one." Hannibal said.

Jack looks at Hannibal and said, "I think it’s time Abigail Hobbs left home for good. Pack up whatever she needs to pack up and get her out of Minnesota. Now." Hannibal and Will turn to leave but where stopped by Jack. "Not you, Will. You stay right here."

Clarice remained where she was as she watched Hannibal leave once she was sure he was out of sight she looked at Jack.

"Jack, I was with Abigail all through the night." Clarice said.

"Any reason why you didn't say anything about it until now, Clarice?" Jack asked.

Clarice shrugged her shoulders and said, "Just waiting for you to cool down, Jack."

Jack doesn't respond to that, he just shook his head at her.

\---

The reflection of police lights danced across the window Abigail is looking through as Hannibal drove toward Abigail’s home, Alana Bloom in the passenger seat. Police officers part and remove orange cones to allow Hannibal to drive into the Hobbs driveway unobstructed, quickly reforming behind Hannibal’s rental car to keep the circus of reporters and news vans and looky-loos at bay.

Abigail, Alana and Hannibal get out of the car. Abigail glanced back at the crowd of reporters and camera men.  
  
"Abigail. Did you know you were a cannibal?"

"Abigail. Anything to say to the families of your father’s victims?"

"Abigail. Did your father feed you those girls?" 

"Abigail."

Various reporters bombarded her with questions.

Abigail and her escorts walk toward the Hobbs Residence, while their eyes regard the Police Line. They finally look away just as Marissa’s mother pushed her way through the crowd. A policeman awkwardly tried to hold her back. Like a paternal shield, Hannibal eased Abigail toward Alana and stepped to intercept Marissa’s mother. He barred her path, gripped her arms, his hands soft but firm.  
  
"Why come back? Why did you come back here? Why did you come back?" Marissa's mother demanded.

Abigail can’t find her words. Marissa’s mother is so wracked with grief she can barely stand. A Policeman arrived behind her as Alana moved in, easing her from Hannibal’s hold. Freddie stepped out of the shadows near the garage.  
  
"Abigail." Freddie said.  
  
"Ms Lounds, you’re on the wrong side of the police line." Hannibal said.  
  
"This is my tale to tell. I’ve been covering the Minnesota Shrike long before you got involved." Freddie said.

But Hannibal and a police officer are already approaching. The Police Officer grabbed Freddie by the elbow, ushering her away from the Hobbs House and Abigail. She called out to the girl, "I want to help you tell your story. You need me now more than ever."  
  
"I want to talk to her." Abigail said.  
  
"No, you don’t. Go inside." Alana said.  
  
Abigail reluctantly does as instructed.  
  
Hannibal joined Freddie’s escort across the Police Line.  
  
"I’m not the only one lurking about the Hobbs house peeking in windows. They really should monitor those police lines more carefully." Freddie said.  
  
"Have you seen a young man? Mid-20s, ginger hair? Un-washed." Hannibal asked.  
  
"I’ll tell you if I saw him if you tell me why it’s important." Freddie said.

\---------------

Abigail sat on the couch, crying quietly, emotionally exhausted from the horrors of the day. Include a handmade pillow embroidered across the surface, an image of a deer walked across a plane, trimmed in pelt. She clutched it to her stomach, needing something to hold. Then it dawned on her. Abigail’s hands gnarl as she began pulling at the fabric of the pillow, digging her fingernails into it. The pillow began to rip at the seams and Abigail tore it open.

She began to shake as she’s removed the pillow’s stuffing. Wads and Wads and wads of human hair. Abigail’s heartbeat pounded in her ears, filling her head with a rhythmic, oppressive tone. She began to tremble. As Abigail reeled from this horror, there’s a blur of motion unbeknownst to her in front of the sliding glass doors. A slight breeze blew through Abigail’s hair and sound returned to normal. She looked up to see the sliding glass doors are now open to find standing in front of her was Nicholas Boyle.  
  
"I’m not going to hurt you. I got to talk to someone. I didn’t kill that girl. I swear I didn’t." Nick said.

Abigail instinctively goes still. Then bolted. Abigail attempted to run. Nick Boyle grabbed her, spun her around and forced her against the wall, his hand over her mouth.  
  
"I didn’t..." Nick started to say but he stiffened suddenly, eyes going wide as it is revealed that Abigail has plunged a kitchen knife into him at his sternum. She pulled it down, gutting him in one horrible motion.  
  
Just like her father showed her.

Nick stumbled back, already glassy eyed, and the awful wet sound that followed can only be his entrails.  
  
Hannibal and Alana return from the media circus down the street, crossing the Police Line surrounding the Hobbs house.  
  
Alana and Hannibal enter through the front doors, moving toward the kitchen.  
  
"Abigail?" Alana called.

Before Alana can reach the kitchen, she saw a bloodied Abigail walking up the stairs, shell-shocked.  
  
"Abigail..." Alana said.

Before Alana can get out another word, Hannibal palmed the side of her head from behind, slamming her into the wall in one move. Alana is instantly knocked out, collapsing into Hannibal’s arms as he gently lied her on the ground.

Abigail is stunned by Hannibal’s sudden brutality but he reassured her, "She’ll be alright." Then he said. "Show me what happened." Hannibal cautiously entered, Abigail behind him, to find the disemboweled corpse of Nick Boyle slumped in the room. Abigail doesn’t weep, she doesn’t appear victimized and broken. She simply stared, inscrutably. Hannibal squatted besides her, putting a steady hand on her shoulder as if to rouse her out of a deep sleep. His voice is gentle, fatherly. "Abigail."  
  
Abigail is terrified, traumatized by the blood on her hands as she said, "He was going to kill me."  
  
"Was he? This isn’t self-defense, Abigail. You butchered him." Hannibal said.  
  
"I didn’t..." Abigail said.  
  
"They will see what you did and they will see you as an accessory to the crimes of your father." Hannibal said.  
  
"I wasn’t." Abigail said.  
  
"I can help you, if you ask me to. At great risk to my career and my life. You have a choice. You can tell them you were defending yourself when you gutted this man... or we can hide the body." Hannibal said.

Abigail's mind was spinning...

\---------------

Alana in the back of an ambulance, the side of her head being bandaged. Will sat on the bench across from her; Jack stands just outside the doors. Clarice was standing next to Jack.  
  
"I don’t remember anything. Maybe a blur out of the corner of my eye, then a big, fat cut to black." Alana said.  
  
"Nicholas Boyle attacked Abigail. You. Struck Lecter across the back of head with a fireplace poker." Jack said.  
  
"Where is Abigail?" Alan asked.  
  
"Lecter took her back to the hotel." Will answered her.  
  
"Scratched Nicholas Boyle before he ran out the back door. Blood on her hands matches the tissue we pulled from Marissa Schuur’s mouth." Jack said.  
  
"He got away?" Alana said.  
  
"He won’t go to a hospital. He knows he’ll get caught if he does." Will said.  
  
"We’ll get him one way or another." Jack said.  
  
"What’s one way?" Alana asked.  
  
"We’ll find his body, bled out. He already lost a lot of blood." Will said.

Frustrated, Will climbs out of the back of the Ambulance.  
  
"Where are you going?" Jack asked.  
  
"I’m tired, Jack. I want to go home." Will said.

Jack watched Will go with Clarice.

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE**

Will sat opposite Hannibal, who listened intently as Will spoke.  
  
"Sometimes at night, I leave the lights on in my little house and walk across the flat fields. When I look back from a distance, the house is like a boat at sea. It’s really the only time I feel safe." Will said.  
  
"Far from shores that would breach the hull structure of your mind. What dark waters would they let in?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"My mind has already been breached." Will said.  
  
"You view your mentality as grotesque but useful." Hannibal said.  
  
"Like a chair made of antlers." Will said.  
  
"You stood in the breathing silence of Garret Jacob Hobbs’ home. The very spaces he moved through. Tell me, Will, did they speak to you?" Hannibal said.  
  
"With noise and clarity." Will said.  
  
"You could sense his madness. Like a bloodhound sniffs a shirt." Hannibal said.  
  
"I tried so hard to know Garret Jacob Hobbs. To see him past the glint of slides and vials, beneath the lines of police reports, between the pixels of all those printed faces of sad, dead girls." Will said.  
  
"How did you feel seeing Marissa Schuur impaled in his antler room?" Hannibal said.  
  
"Guilty." Will said.  
  
"Because you couldn’t save her?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Because I felt like I killed her." Will said.  
  
"A lipless voice accusing you." Hannibal said.  
  
"I got so close to him. Sometimes I felt like we were doing the same things at various times of the day. Like I was eating or showering or sleeping at the same time he was." Will said.  
  
"Even after he was dead?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Even after he was dead." Will said.  
  
"Like you were becoming him." Hannibal said.  
  
"I know who I am. I’m not Garret Jacob Hobbs, Dr. Lecter," Will said. "But I don’t think I should see Abigail anymore. Not for a while."

Hannibal looked at Will, processing his broken friend...

\-------------

Hannibal was sitting across from Clarice as she had her arms crossed under her breasts as she looked at him and he in looked at her in return.

"What's your worst memory of childhood?" Hannibal asked when she hesitated he added. "Quicker than that. I'm not interested in your worst invention."

"The death of my father." Clarice said finally.

"Tell me. Don't lie, or I'll know." Hannibal said.

Clarice cannot bear looking at his eyes. She looked past him, hesitating again.

"He was a town marshal... one night he surprised two burglars, coming out the back of a drugstore...They shot him." She said.

Hannibal watched her reactions as he asked, "Killed outright?"

"No. He was strong, he lasted almost a month. My mother died when I was very young, so my father had become the whole world to me...After he left me, I had nobody. I was ten years old." Clarice said.

"You're very frank, Clarice. I think it would be quite something to know you in private life." Hannibal said.

Clarice looked at him when he said that, she was obviously trying to figure if he was flirting with her or not. She decided to ignore it for the time being if she had time, she'll ask him about it.

"After your father's death, you were orphaned. What happened next?" Hannibal asked when Clarice dropped her gaze. "I don't imagine the answer's on those second-rate shoes, Clarice."

"I went to live with my mother's cousin and her husband in Montana. They had a ranch." Clarice said as briefly looked up at him.

"A cattle ranch?" Hannibal asked. 

It was obvious she didn't like talking about her childhood.

"Horses...and sheep..." Clarice said.

"How long did you live there?" Hannibal asked.

"Two months." Clarice responded.

"Why so briefly?" Hannibal asked.

"I...ran away..." Clarice said.

"Why, Clarice? Did the rancher sexually assaulted you?" Hannibal asked.

Clarice shook her head angrily and said just as angrily, "No."

"Did he try to?" Hannibal said.

"No...!" Clarice shouted as she stood up. "I...I have to go." 

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow." Hannibal stood up as well and walked with her to the door. He knew better not to push her, Clarice was agitated and when she was agitated her sharp tongue came out a lot more. "Oh, and Clarice - next time you will tell me why you ran away. Okay?

Clarice was obviously shaken but she said, "Yes, Doctor."

\---

Hannibal works quietly at his desk in his darkened space. He scribbled in Will’s patient notebook, adding to observations. He had just finished writing in Clarice's patient notebook. A creek from the balcony above him lifted his pen from page.  
  
"Hello, Abigail." Hannibal said.

Abigail was standing on the second floor library.  
  
"How did you know it was me?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Hospital called. You climbed over the wall. Where else were you to go? Home is no longer an option." Hannibal said as he walked over. "Come down from there."

Abigail climbed down the ladder, taking Hannibal’s hand for balance as she stepped off the last rungs onto the floor.  
  
"I don’t want to go to sleep." Abigail said.  
  
"You can’t anticipate your dreams, can’t block them, can’t repress." Hannibal said.  
  
"I didn’t honor any part of him. So it’s just murder, isn’t it?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Most would argue self defense." Hannibal said.  
  
"Then why not tell the truth." Abigail said.  
  
"Most would argue. There would still be those who would say you were taking after your father." Hannibal said.  
  
"Am I?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Like your father, you know the unreality of the people who die. You understand that they are not flesh, but light and air and color. Quick sounds quickly ended when you change them. You changed Nicholas Boyle like a burst balloon." Hannibal said.

A wave of near-nausea washed over her, she pushed it down.  
  
"You said I gutted him. Like a deer." Abigail said.  
  
"Nicholas Boyle is more important for the gutting, more important than the life he clamored after." Hannibal said.  
  
"You’re glad I killed him." Abigail said.  
  
"What would be the alternative? That he killed you?" Hannibal asked,  
  
"I don’t know if he was going to." Abigail said.  
  
"No, you don’t." Hannibal said.  
  
"You’re the one who called the house. You talked to my dad before... What did you say to him?" Abigail asked.  
  
"A simple conversation, ascertaining if he was home for an interview." Hannibal smoothly lied. "Then why not tell the truth?"

"They think who called the house was a serial killer. Just like my dad." Abigail said.  
  
"I’m nothing like your father. I made a mistake. Something easily misconstrued. Not unlike yourself." Hannibal said. "I’ll keep your secret."  
  
"And I’ll keep yours." Abigail said. There’s a finality to their agreement. A life long pact.  
  
"Reassuring to recognize when the bolt of our fates slides home." Hannibal said. "No more climbing walls, Abigail."

\---------------------

Clarice unlocked her front door and tossed her keys on a small table then tossed her purse and jacket onto the arm chair that she kept next to the door. Salem walked over to her from her office and rubbed against her legs, meowing.

"Alright, alright...I'll feed you before I feed myself, damn monster." She murmured as she walked to the kitchen to fix him his food before she feed herself, Salem ate his food on the counter next to Clarice's plate. Clarice smiled at she watched Salem eat, purring while he was eating which was something weird he did. Once they were both done eating, she picked up their plates and put them in the sink, she quickly washed them and put them up to dry before she picked up the cat and walked up the stairs with him in her arms.

Clarice gently tossed the cat onto her bed before she changed into her pajamas then she climbed into bed and laid her head on the pillow, she closed her eyes and she soon sank into her dreams of blood and screaming of the lambs. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Oeuf Part 1**

Jack stood in the dining room doorway, he was watching Will who now wore rubber gloves and is no longer holding a gun, but his arm is still raised. Clarice was standing close to Will but not too close.

A moment, then Jack asked, "What do you see, Will?"  
  
"Family values." Will said.  
  
"Whose family values?" Jack asked.

Will unable to answer that question as Clarice stared at the victims with a blank look on her face, she was seeing what happened to them, she felt what they had felt when they died...the fear, the panic...  
  
**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE**  

Will’s pack of misfit dogs sniff and wander the house. Suddenly, they all go still. Tails motionless, heads turned to observe a presence with curious interest.  
  
Hannibal appeared at the front door, Will’s house lit up behind him. He held up links of sausages. Dinner time.  
  
Dogs occupied, Hannibal stood before a cluttered bookshelf. He scanned the bindings, pulled one out for a better look: an instruction manual on fly fishing. He raised an eyebrow.

A dresser drawer glide open. Hannibal inspected a pile of old t-shirts looking for clues to Will’s past, instead he only finds white t-shirts, a dozen of them neatly folded. Telling in its own way.

A boat motor was unceremoniously displayed in a partially disassembled state. Through Will’s glasses, Hannibal picked up the pieces of the disassembled boat motor and put them together effortlessly.

Hannibal entered the office to find Will’s fly tying gear arranged on the table. There is a rack of completed flies. A vice, lamp, magnifying glass, yarns, threads, feathers, and hooks. Hannibal sat at the station, admired Will’s handiwork, such delicate lures for catching fish.

Hannibal applied himself to tying off an incomplete salmon fly, expertly using the tools of Will’s hobby, thread, bobbin, scissors, pliers. His surgeon’s precision in play. Having completed his work, Hannibal admired the fly and hook. He pressed his thumb gently against the pointed barb, and kept the pressure on until he drew a drop of blood. Without lingering on his act, Hannibal sucked the lone drop from his thumb-tip. The sound is not unlike a quick kiss.

**CLARICE STARLING'S HOUSE**

Salem was sitting in front of the door, watching the knob as it turned and was opened to reveal Hannibal. The cat meowed and rubbed up against the man's legs. He held up links of sausages. Dinner time.

Cat occupied, Hannibal stood before a cluttered bookshelf. He scanned the bindings, pulled one out for a better look: a book about Cannibalism and Serial Killers. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the rest of her books, they were all about serial killers.

A dresser drawer glided open. Hannibal inspected a pile of shirts looking for clues to Clarice’s past instead he only finds men's dress shirts of various colors, a dozen of them neatly folded. Telling in its own way. Another drawer revealed bras and panties, the kind that he hadn't been expecting to see. Clarice seemed the type to wear plain, white cotton ones. At one corner of the drawer was a lace and satin sensual nightgowns that still had the tags on them.

On the walls where pictures of her in various stages of childhood, he saw pictures of her with her father and then when she was 13 with an unknown woman as she and her stood in front of Buckingham Palace. Doing silly poses and making just as silly faces. There were pictures of her with the unknown woman and an unknown man, most likely the woman's husband during different Holidays. 

Salem was sitting on the counter and watching Hannibal as he explored the house, he walked out of the house, locking the door behind him.

**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL BALTIMORE, MARYLAND**

A private patient suite with many of the comforts of home. She gazed in the mirror. The bandages on her neck have been removed and she sees her fresh, angry scars above her white slip. She ran her fingers across the wound before tying a scarf around her neck to conceal it from the world.

"I can hide what happened to me. All I need is a scarf to pass. Or a turtleneck, the right high collar," Abigail said. Abigail walked with Alana Bloom, a casual therapy session.

"Part of the process of recovery. And hiding what happened to you defeats the purpose of being here. Sharing will help normalize." Alana said.

"I’m not normal," Abigail said. "Not anymore."

"What happened to you isn’t normal." Alana said.

"Some of these women aren’t even sharing. They speak in little girl voices telling everyone what was done to them and how they hurt without saying a word about it." Abigail said.

"Certain traumas can arrest vocal development. Victims can sometimes broadcast victimhood involuntarily." Alana said.

Abigail said as she adjusted her scarf, "Not me."  
  
"That’s not necessarily true. Your victimhood has a high profile, thanks to Freddie Lounds." Alana said.  
  
"I’m a celebrity victim. Someone here asked me if I kept my stained clothes. Like I was that girl who did oral with President Clinton." Abigail said.  
  
"How did that make you feel?" Alana asked.  
  
"Like I wanted to go home. But I don’t have a home anymore, do I?" Abigail asked.  
  
"You will. I’ll help you find it." Alana said.  
  
"Would’ve been my mom’s birthday yesterday. We were gonna climb Eagle Mountain to celebrate. Highest point in Minnesota, but it’s not really that high. Less than three hours to summit. You can see Lake Superior from there." Abigail said.  
  
"We could go there and scatter your mother’s ashes, if you like." Alana said.

"I would like that." Abigail said.  
  
"Abigail, I want you to give the support groups another chance." Alana said.  
  
"Support groups are sucking the life out of me through a narrow straw." Abigail said.

"Isolating yourself can suck just as hard and through an even narrower straw. You have to find someone to relate to in this experience." Alana said.

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE**

Hannibal looked up as the buzzer on his desk rings.  
  
Hannibal opened the door to find Alana waiting for him.  
  
"Hi." Alana said.

Hannibal looked at her with a wry expression as he asked, "Do you have an appointment?"  
  
"Do you have a beer?" Alana asked.  
  
Once inside, Alana clinked her beer bottle to Hannibal’s wine glass.  
  
"Interesting day with Abigail?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"The grief work, the trauma intervention, it’s all on course," Alana said. "But I think she may be wrestling with a low-grade depression."

Drolly eyeing the large swig Alana took of her beer.

" _She_?" Hannibal asked.

"Nothing wrong with a little self-medication, right, Doctor?" Alana said. "Professional neutrality be damned, it’s hard to see such a bright, young girl go so adrift."

"One can certainly lose perspective tucked away for weeks in an ivory tower. Perhaps it’s time Abigail’s released from clinical treatment." Hannibal said.  
  
"Released where? Back into the wild?" Alana asked.  
  
"Spending each day immersed in tragedy may be doing more harm than good. Abigail should be out in the world finding her footing, giving her the confidence to move forward." Hannibal said.  
  
"Abigail is in no condition to tackle real-world issues like where she’s going to live, what to do about school, hell, where her next meal is going to come from." Alana said.  
  
"I’m not suggesting abandonment." Hannibal said.  
  
"You and Will both feel responsible but do you really think it’s wise to insert yourselves in her life?" Alana said.  
  
"I am qualified to help her." Hannibal said.  
  
"You’re the sanest man I know." Alana said.

"I would agree." Hannibal said.  
  
"You saved her life. But it doesn’t change the fact that Abigail’s been through what she’s been through." Alana said.  
  
"Was there when she went through it." Hannibal said.  
  
"I can’t tell you what to do. But if you insist on taking a personal interest in her welfare, then you’d better understand, you can’t walk away, no matter what the outcome." Alana said.  
  
"We break it, we buy it?"  
  
"This is a girl who was very attached to her parents. Overly so, in fact. You stepping in as a surrogate would only be a crutch. Abigail needs to work things out for herself in a safe, clinical environment. That will give her the confidence to move forward." Alana said.

Seeing Alana isn’t about to budge, Hannibal bowed his head as he said, "I defer to the passion of my esteemed colleague."  
  
"Have soapbox, will travel." Alana said.  
  
"Passion’s good. Gets blood pumping." Hannibal said.

Hannibal appreciated the flush in Alana’s cheek... And he remembered Clarice's flushed look when she had first spoken to him.

**TURNER HOME BANGOR, MAINE**

Jack Crawford strode past the few local police who control the scene as his team gathered evidence. Jimmy stood as he photographed the dinner table of death. Brian is in a crouch, checking wound angles. Beverly collected finger prints from a glass of SUNNY-D.

Jack found Will at a remove, looking at family photographs. Clarice was close by, staring blankly at a group picture.

"Karen and Roger Turner. Childhood sweethearts. Owned a successful Real Estate business. Pillars of the community. Three children." Jack said.

"Minus one." Will said.  
  
"A son, Jesse, disappeared last year. Last confirmed sighting had him boarding an RV at a rest area on route forty-seven. Possible runaway, probable abduction." Jack said.  
  
"Or both." Will said.  
  
"Hundreds of tips, but not a single one held up past lunchtime. When misery rains, she pours." Jack said.

This sentiment is counter to the smiling faces in the photos.  
  
"Holidays, vacations, milestones... never reveals the whole picture." Will said.  
  
"Who wants to fill their scrapbook with arguments and dirty laundry?" Jack said.  
  
"False faces in family portraits. Layers and layers of lies betrayed by a sad glint in a child’s eyes." Will said.

Jimmy snapped a photo of the dinner table as he said, "Norman Rockwell with a bullet."

Clarice looked at him and said, "Very morbid... I will never look at a Normal Rockwell painting the same very again."

Jimmy gave her a sheepish smile in response and Clarice just shook her head, smiling a little. Letting him know that she wasn't that upset with him.

"Any signs of forced entry?" Jack asked.  
  
"Perimeter is clean of scoring and rupture. No broken windows or torn screens. It’s all sealed up tight." Beverly said.  
  
"They probably rang the doorbell." Jack said.  
  
"I’ve got bullet holes on the upper sections of the wall and ceiling." Beverly said.  
  
"Pull the slugs for ballistics." Jack ordered.  
  
"If they aren’t frangible, it shouldn’t be a problem." Beverly said.  
  
"Those elevated termination points match what I see on these bodies," Brian said as he moved toward the table, indicating what he meant. "Angled cranial impacts, coupled with acute exit wounds and conical spray, the shooter was firing from low to high, probably crouched."  
  
"Or maybe they were Hobbits." Jimmy said.

This odd information strikes a chord of epiphany for Will, he moves back toward that collection of family photographs.  
  
"How long since Jesse was abducted?" Will asked.  
  
"Just over a year." Jack said.

Returning to the stack of photos, Will stopped on one in particular: a much younger version of the missing boy. The photo was of a six-year-old Jesse Turner held a stuffed octopus, one of its dangling arms in his mouth. His mother sweetly looked on.

Clarice walked up behind him as she too looked at the photo with a sad look on her face. 

**MORGUE**

The corpses of mother Turner, father Turner, and their two children (in body bags or covered in sheets) are presented on slabs for inspection. Jack faced Zellar, Starling, Price, Katz, and Graham. He’s like a demanding father, presiding over his children as they present what they’ve just learned at school. Will stood slightly apart, not quite fitting into this surrogate family. Clarice was next to him with her arms crossed.  
  
"I’m glad we didn’t have guns in my house. I would’ve shot my sisters to get them out of the bathroom." Brian said.  
  
"I liked having a big family." Beverly said.  
  
"My parents gave me a gift. A twin. Why wouldn’t you want two of me?" Jimmy said.

Brian looked at Will as he said, "Must’ve been an only child."  
  
"Why do you say that?" Will asked as he looked at him.

Clarice leveled a stare a Brian.

"Family friction is a catalyst for personality development." Brian said.

An odd remark, but Beverly swooped in to take the sting away.

"I was the oldest, so all the friction rolled down hill." Beverly said.  
  
"The attention and responsibilities given to firstborn children prime them for future success." Jack said.  
  
"Here I am. Livin’ the dream." Beverly said.  
  
"Any favoring of another sibling could undermine the oldest’s ability to handle stress." Will said.  
  
"My baby sister got away with murder. She had ‘em all fooled." Beverly said.  
  
"I thought middle were the problems." Jimmy said.  
  
"The middle is the sweet spot." Brian said.  
  
"Always trying to figure out where they fit in. Forces them to use different strategies navigating up and down developmental spectrums. They can be great politicians." Will said. "Or lousy ones."

Brian looked at Clarice and asked, "What about you, Starling? Had any siblings?"

"I was an only child." Clarice said with a tone of finality in her voice, clearly letting him that she didn't want to speak about it any more. Most likely thought he was going to make the same crack that he had done with Will about personality development.

Jack who had been studying the crime scene photos as he looked over each of the bodies and said, "All of the victims have defensive wounds. Except for Mrs. Turner."

Jack handed Will the crime scene photos of Mrs. Turner.  
  
"There’s acceptance in her body position. Forgiveness, even." Will said.

Will realized that he missed something that Jack didn’t.

Jack looked at him and prodded him, "What kind of victim forgives her killer at the moment of her death?"

Never taking his eyes off Jesse’s mother, Will said, "A mother."

Clarice took a photo from Will and looked at Jesse's mother when she heard Will say that, she looked at him and then back at the photo as she murmured, "Well damn... Just damn."

She wasn't one to swear but she felt that the situation called for it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You promised to deliver your wife to my dinner table." this comment and the one before when he first spoke to Jack about his wife made me think he had meant literally for dinner since it's Hannibal that's saying it xD
> 
> I don't like Brian either, he's an ass to Will and yet he had the nerve to get mad when Freddie used him to write that article about Will...I dunno who I don't like more, him or Freddie.

**Oeuf Part 2**

**Hannibal's Office**

Hannibal sat opposite Will, smiling warmly before asking, "Tell me about your mother."   
  
"That’s some lazy psychiatry, Dr. Lecter. Low hanging fruit." Will said.  
  
"I suspect that fruit is on a high branch, very difficult to reach." Hannibal said.  
  
"So’s my mother. I never knew her." Will said.  
  
"An interesting place to start." Hannibal said.  
  
"Tell me about your mother. Let’s start there. Quid pro quo." Will said.

A fan of the language, Hannibal enjoyed Will’s use of Latin.  
  
"Both my parents died when I was very young. The proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my Uncle Robertas when I was 16." Hannibal said.

Will considered that, understanding Hannibal a little more clearly than before or so he thinks.  
  
"You have orphan in common with Abigail Hobbs." Will said. "And Clarice..."  
  
"I think we’ll discover you and I have a great deal in common with Abigail. She’s already demonstrated an aptitude for the psychological. As for Miss Starling, she's not willing to talk about her childhood," Hannibal said. "Quid pro quo."

Will is unwilling to return the volley.

"There’s something so foreign about family. Like an ill-fitting suit. Never connected to the concept," Will said. "She's never liked talking about it, the only reason why I know is that she gets very emotional when pushed about them."  
  
"You created a family for yourself." Hannibal said. "How emotional does she get?"

"I created a pack of strays. Thanks for feeding them while I was away." Will said. "So emotional that she can't talk about it at all."

Hannibal nodded his _you’re welcome_ then he said, "I was referring to Abigail Hobbs." Hannibal lets Will get used to that idea then. "Tell me about the Turner Family. Were they affluent? Well to do?"  
  
"They lived like they had money." Will said.  
  
"Did your family have money, Will?" Hannibal said.  
  
"We were poor. I followed my father from the boat yards in Biloxi and Greenville to lake boats on Erie." Will said.  
  
"Always the new boy at school? Always the stranger?" Hannibal said.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Harboring a half-buried grudge against the rich?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Aren’t we all."  
  
"What grudge was Mrs. Turner’s killer harboring against her?" Hannibal asked.

"Motherhood." Will said.  
  
"Not motherhood, a perversion of it." Hannibal said.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clarice hesitantly walked by Hannibal, she had her arms wrapped around her as if to protect herself from him.

"I must apologize to you if I made you uncomfortable yesterday, Clarice." Hannibal said trying to ease the young woman in his presence, knowing that if she felt threatened she will clam up.

Clarice blinked at she looked at him as if she just had noticed him and said, "What? Oh, no it's fine..."

"Then why are you acting like this?" Hannibal asked.

"...I don't know how to explain this," Clarice said as she ran a hand through her hair in an agitated manner. "But I feel that I will lose my mind if I don't tell someone."

Hannibal ushered her to the couch that he had sat on with Freddie though it was different this time, he was comforting Clarice and not threatening her like he had done with Freddie.

"What's wrong?" Hannibal asked as he sat down next to Clarice.

Clarice sighed heavily and does something that caught Hannibal Lecter completely off guard: she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I feel like I'm drowning," Clarice whispered. "Every time I close my eyes, I see my daddy..." Another shaky sigh. "I see how he was the day he died...I keep scaring my cat when I wake up scream." There was a brief pause. "Thank you for feeding him by the way, you saved me from getting scratched up by a pissed off cat."

Hannibal silently enjoyed the feel of her soft curves against his hard frame as he asked, "You said he lasted a long time, is that what you remember?"

"Yes." Clarice said. "I...I'm scared to sleep..."

Hannibal slowly puts his arm around her shoulder, he doesn't want to spook her but she doesn't do anything or say anything to stop him in fact she relaxes even further against him. That alone told him that this had rattled her badly because Clarice Starling wasn't the type to let anyone see her this weak.

She was a strong woman after all even if she puts on that facade of strength.

"Next time you feel this way, you can call me and I will ease your fear," Hannibal said. "And if I have to, I will come to you and scare away whatever is keeping you from sleep."

Clarice laughed at that and said, "Sounds good." She was silent then. "You know... This is highly unprofessional of you, Doctor Lecter."

Hannibal knew that she wasn't complaining, her tone was light and playful.

"It may be so but it's only natural to comfort a scared person." Hannibal said.

"You did a good job, Doctor," Clarice said as she pulled away slowly. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm at the proper mind set to do my psych eval."

Hannibal stands up with her and leads her to the door as he said, "That's fine, Clarice... I'll see you some other time."

"Bye." Clarice said as she walked out.

**HANNIBAL’S HOME**

A beautiful platter of blood sausage. Hannibal dished a generous portion of sausage onto Jack Crawford’s plate. Jack filled his lungs with the aroma. 

"A modified Bouidin Noir from AliBab’s Gastronomie Pratique." Hannibal said.  
  
"Ali-Bab?" Jack asked.  
  
"An engineer who, after losing his sense of appetite, spent the remainder of his life cooking for his brother. He developed a theory that great cultures meet their ends solely as a result of their cuisines becoming too decadent." Hannibal said.  
  
"You’ll meet your end if my wife catches you fattening up my liver." Jack said.  
  
"Perfect for foie gras." Hannibal said. "You promised to deliver your wife to my dinner table."  
  
"We’ve got to polish our act. Can’t have you diagnosing our marital problems in one fell swoop," Jack said. "What am I about to put in my mouth?"  
  
"Rabbit." Hannibal said.

Jack dug in as he said, "Should have hopped faster."  
  
"Yes, he should have. But fortunately for us, he did not." Hannibal said.

Jack took a bite and savored the rich taste of blood sausage.  
  
"Our friend Will seemed haunted today. More than usual. Thought maybe it was the nature of the case. A murdered family." Jack said.

"I doubt the age and relationship of the victims he’s investigating would affect his professionalism." Hannibal said.  
  
"Then what would?" Jack asked.  
  
"We don’t know what nightmares lie coiled beneath Will’s pillow." Hannibal said.  
  
"We don’t? You should." Jack said.  
  
"The first small bond to a killer itches and stings like a leech, that may be the distraction."  
  
"Maybe it’s not such a small bond. Children killing other children. Not an unfamiliar notion for Will." Jack.  
  
"You still suspect Abigail Hobbs in her father’s crimes." Hannibal said.  
  
"Doesn’t matter what I suspect. It matters what I can prove. Ms. Hobbs has been absolved of any crime." Jack said.  
  
"Yet?" Hannibal said.

"The nightmare under Will’s pillow may be that he was wrong about her." Jack said.  
  
"A more innocuous theory." Hannibal said.  
  
"Please." Jack said.  
  
"Children transport us to our childhoods. Will may feel the tug of life before the FBI, before you. Simpler times in boat yards with dad. That life is an anchor streamed behind him in heavy weather. He needs an anchor, Jack." Hannibal said. "Other than Clarice who seems to be going through her own issues on top of being Will's anchor." 

Jack looked at Hannibal when he said that but the doctor only smiled.

**FORENSICS LAB**

Boys' sneakers that have well-worn soles, a duct-taped rip in the canvas upper, a doodle on the rubber toe cap. Beverly inspected the sneakers. Jimmy dusted for prints at a nearby table, everything from video game controllers to a flush handle from a toilet. He’s currently dusting a soda pop can collected from an evidence crate.  
  
"Got the blurred print of a nose off a soda-pop can. Someone could use a Biore blackhead strip." Jimmy said.  
  
"One pair of size-six sneakers from the Turner house. Tread on left indicates uneven leg length." Beverly said.  
  
"Is that unusual?" Jack asked.  
  
Brian worked on the four bodies of the Turner Family, discreetly covered by sheets.  
  
"Not in a 12 year-old. Growth plates are all out of whack." Brian said. "One foot’s bigger than another. One leg is longer. Puberty is in full effect."

"I’ll say. Lived in the Turner’s house for a week after they were dead. Ordered pizza and Pay Per View Movies. Porn. Lots of porn." Jimmy said.  
  
"There’s a strong bond of aggressive and sexual drives that occurs in sadists at an early age." Beverly said.  
  
"I didn’t turn out to be a sadist." Brian said.

 _No, you just turned out to be a grade A asshole._ Clarice's Southern accent was heard inside Beverly's head, it was what she would have said if she was here with them. It was no secret that she didn't like Brian at all.  
  
"How did Jesse Turner turn out? No one has seen him in almost a year." Beverly said.  
  
"I’ve extrapolated present height and weight from abduction stats." Brian said as he measured the corpses of the other Turner kids. "Even with the usual growth spurt between eleven and twelve, he’d be at most around four-and-a-half feet tall. Maybe eighty pounds."

Jimmy dusted a video game controller from an evidence box, pulling prints and scanning them into the computer.  
  
"God’s gift to trace analysts. Gorgeous fingerprints all over these things. No matches, but they’re gorgeous. Nothing forecasts violence like a first person shooter." Jimmy said.  
  
"Isolated 7 pairs of shoe prints, filtered out the Turners, including Jesse’s, so we’re down to three unsubs. Sneakers are a size 7, a 3-and-a-half and a boy’s 11." Beverly said.  
  
"The Lost Boys." Brian said.

Jimmy studied the point comparison of the finger print he just fed into the computer, several dots of similarities light up across the print grid a match.

"Just found one of them." Jimmy said.

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL**

Will stood in front of a classroom full of F.B.I. trainees, mid-lecture on an as-yet unexplored killer.  
  
"Most of the time in sexual assaults the bite mark has a livid spot in the center, a suck bruise. In certain cases, they do not. For some killers, biting may be a fighting pattern as much as sexual behavior." Will said.

Jack entered, crossing to the front of the hall. Clarice watched him with some interest as she paused writing in her notebook.  
  
"Class dismissed. Everybody out." Jack said when the trainees hesitated. "What did I just say?"

The F.B.I. trainees gathered their books and quickly exit though Clarice remained seated before she finally gathered her books and walked over to Jack and Will.  
  
"You’re making it difficult to provide an education, Jack." Will said  
  
"We found a match for a set of prints pulled from the Turner house. They belong to Connor Frist, a 13 year-old from Huntsville." Jack said.  
  
"Another kid?" Will said.  
  
"Another missing kid. Vanished 10 months ago. Case never solved." Jack said.  
  
"Good news, Mr. and Mrs. Frist. Your son’s alive. Bad news, he’s a suspect in four murders." Will said.

Clarice looked at him and asked, "That would be a fun conversation with her...you wanna tell her or should I?"

"You because you're a people person." Will said.

"Thanks for that." Clarice with a shake of her head.  
  
"Four so far." Jack said.  
  
"How many kids in the Frist family?" Will asked  
  
"Three. Same as the Turners." Jack said.  
  
"Oh, god." Clarice whispered as her eyes widen, she and Will had the same thought.  
  
"We’re ready when you are. And you’re ready right now. Let’s go." Jack said.  
  
"We’re ready?" Will asked.  
  
"We have a Gulf stream standing by at Andrews Airforce Base. Borrowed it from Interior. The basic lab stuff will be on it. We’ll be there within the hour if we leave now." Jack said.  
  
"You expecting a crime scene?" Will asked.

**FRIST HOME**

A Norman Rockwell-style Holiday Greeting Card featuring the Frist family gathered around the Christmas Tree.  
  
_Have a holly, jolly Christmas._

The Frist house was unseasonably decorated for the Christmas holiday. Through the artificially frosted windows, there is a flurry of movement... armed, dark-clad figures creeping in swiftly and silently, moving along the outside of the house.  
  
_It’s the best time of the year. I_ _don’t know if there’ll be snow..._  
  
A gloved finger hits the pause button on the MP3 player, silencing Burl Ives and his misplaced holiday cheer. Jack had turned off the music, surveying the scene with Will, Clarice, Zeller, Price and Katz at his side as dark clad FBI agents fan through the home, weapons at the ready.  
  
A well-decorated and colorfully illumined Christmas tree reaches to the high ceiling. Dozens of Christmas presents ring the bottom of the pine. Most have been roughly unwrapped and hastily opened, shredded by feral kinder. Several other scattered presents have remained untouched.

The Frist family, mother, father and two children gathered around the tree in their pajamas and robes, partially concealed by tattered and torn gift wrap. All dead. And have been for some time. The family dog trotted out from behind the Christmas tree, carrying a chewed-off arm in its mouth. The dog dropped the arm at Will’s feet.  
  
"Merry Christmas." Will said.

Clarice grimaced at that and said, "And that's why I will never get a dog... They bring you the nastiest stuff."

**MORGUE**

Will, Clarice, Zeller, Price and Katz are examining the dead Frist family, Mother, Father and two children (discreetly covered) as Jack looks on. Brian casually examined the partially eaten tissue of Mr. Frist’s throat.  
  
"At least the dog didn’t starve." Brian said.

Clarice rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah, because that's totally fine... Hopefully the dog didn't get a taste for human flesh. That has _Cujo_ written all over it."

"Cujo went crazy because of rabies." Brian said with a smirk.

"And? Still killed people, got a taste for human blood." Clarice said. "And so did the Frists' dog."  
  
"Mr. Frist and the children killed first... Mrs. Frist saved for last. Same as the Turner’s." Jack said interrupting them before an argument broke out.  
  
"Not exactly the same. The boys didn’t stay. Something went wrong." Will said.  
  
"Not a single present under the tree for Mrs. Frist. Who doesn’t buy their mom a Christmas present?" Beverly asked.  
  
"Took her presents, took her motherhood." Will said.  
  
"Who was the additional corpse in the fireplace?" Jack asked.

From the corner of Clarice's eyes, she can see the edge of a charred skull with incinerated fabric, feathers in the ashes around the skull.

Will said without looking, "I’d say Connor Frist."

"I second that notion." Clarice chimed in.

Zeller and Katz inspected Mrs. Frist's corpse. Just below her hairline, a puckered entry wound stands out against her smooth, pale skin.

"Angled cranial impact means the shooter fired from low to high." Brian said.  
  
"Shooting her once wasn’t enough." Jack observed.

Zeller used his gloved hands to part Mrs. Frist's hair above the entry wound revealing dried, matted blood.  
  
"Bullet deflected off the curvature of her skull, and traveled beneath the scalp to its final resting spot at the base of her neck." Brian said.  
  
"It didn't kill her." Jack said.  
  
"Hydrostatic shock of shell hitting skull would’ve caused brain damage." Beverly said.  
  
Will doesn't say anything instead he looked at Clarice, who stepped forward and said, "Her body went into convulsions. Conner Frist went into a panic. He had been prepped to shoot his mother, but not watch her suffer." She looked at Will who nodded his head in approval.

There were times where he will have Clarice answer, catching the young woman off guard. It was his way of testing her, to see if she was paying attention to details like he was.

Zeller turned Mrs. Frist's head to the side revealing another entry wound that is clearly bigger.  
  
"Shot her again to put her out of her misery. Different gun." Brian said.  
  
"Larger caliber." Beverly said.  
  
"So someone else shot Connor’s mom." Jimmy said.  
  
"Connor couldn't put his panic back in the bottle. So he was shot too." Jack said.  
  
"In anger. By the different gun. With the larger caliber. A gun that wasn’t used at the Turner house where everything went as planned." Will said.

Beverly moved to the burnt corpse and pulled a charred feather from his skull.  
  
"Goose down. There was a pillow under his head." Beverly said.

Jack tried to puzzle it out.  
  
"Connor Frist is murdered because he can’t bring himself to finish off his mother, but afterwards he's treated with compassion and given a ceremonial send-off to the hereafter." Jack said.  
  
"Whoever shot him... disowned him." Will said.

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - WAITING ROOM**

The door opened and Hannibal smiled warmly and greeted Will, "Good evening. Please come in." Sitting next to Will was Clarice who was thumbing through a book that had a picture of Jeffery Dahmer. Hannibal smiled at her choice of reading material but doesn't comment on it at the moment.

Moments later in his office, Hannibal studies Will and the wrapped gift on his lap.  
  
"Has Christmas come early? Or late?" Hannibal asked.

Will stared then shook off the murderous association.  
  
"It was for Abigail." Will said.  
  
"Was?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Thought better of it. Wasn’t thinking clearly. I was upset when I bought it. Maybe still am." Hannibal said.  
  
"You bare gifts when you’re angry?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Better gifts than teeth." Will said.

"What is it?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Magnifying glass. Fly tying gear." Will answered.  
  
"Teaching her how to fish. Her father taught her how to hunt." Hannibal observed.  
  
"That’s why I thought better of it." Will said.  
  
"Feeling paternal, Will?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Aren’t you?" Will asked.  
  
"Yes. Our good friend Dr. Bloom has advised against taking too personal an interest in Abigail’s welfare. You break it, you bought it." Hannibal said.  
  
"Can’t break what’s already broken." Will said.  
  
"Can’t you?" Hannibal asked. "Tell me. Why were you so angry?"  
  
"I’m angry about these boys. I’m angry cause I know when I find them, I can’t help them. I can’t give them back what they gave away." Will said. "And I'm not the only one whose angry, Clarice is livid and will probably be pacing right about now."  
  
"Family." Hannibal said choosing to not comment on a livid Clarice. He already knew how she was angry, she got bold and blunt.  
  
"Yes." Will said.  
  
"Freddie Lounds has coined these young killers the Blood Brothers." Hannibal said.  
  
"We call them the Lost Boys." Will said. "Clarice seen that and that didn't help her anger at all... You can thank Brian for that."

"Abigail is lost, too. Perhaps it is our responsibility, yours and mine, to help her find her way." Hannibal said. "You can send Clarice in now."

\---

True to what Will had said, Clarice was pacing. He knew his protege very well, it made Hannibal wonder just how close they truly were.

"Please come in, Clarice." Hannibal said as he stepped to the side and she walked passed him.

Clarice walked over to his desk and gently placed her book down, he could see that it had been tightly held because the pages were curling a bit. "Have you ever been so angry that you just want to lash out and hurt the person who angered you?" Clarice asked as she looked at Hannibal.

"Why are you angry, Clarice?" Hannibal asked instead of answering, she wasn't ready to hear about his...activities.

"Because someone is making these boys kill their own families." Clarice said. "And I can't understand why. How can someone do that to children?"

"Not everyone has the same view of right or wrong as you do, Clarice." Hannibal said.

Clarice sighed heavily and said, "I know that but when I see this sort of thing with children... I just get very angry." She sat down on one of the chairs. "Of course, Zellar just had to show me what Freddie had written and stroked the fire even more."

"You don't care for Mr. Zellar." Hannibal said, it wasn't question but merely a statement of fact.

But Clarice answered it like one anyways, "I wouldn't say that I didn't care for him, Doctor. I just don't like his personality." There was a pause. "That and he keeps trying to get with me but he's just not my type."

"Who is your type?" Hannibal asked.

He watched the young woman tense up, saw a becoming blush start up from her neck to her cheeks. And he smiled faintly when she refused to meet his eyes.

Clarice cleared her throat and whispered, "You, Doctor...not you personally but men like you." He could tell that she was struggling with her words, she was still polite with her wording but it was obvious that she was embarrassed.

Hannibal decided to take pity on her and change the subject, "I couldn't help but notice your choice of reading material today and when I fed your cat." He picked up her book and handed it to her before he took his seat.

"Oh, I like to read about serial killers." Clarice said. "I find it interesting how their minds worked but the serial killer who interested me the most was Jack the Ripper..."

"Why?" Hannibal asked.

"Because even to this day, no one knows who he is." Clarice said. "There's been some suspects but no one knows for sure who he really was."

"Does Will know about your reading material?"

"Yes, he's been to my house before." Clarice admitted. 

Hannibal doesn't say anything at first but he noticed that she was watching him.

"I think that's enough, Clarice." Hannibal said. "We'll get to what we've been putting on hold tomorrow."

"Alright, Doctor." Clarice said as she stood up. "Good night." Hannibal walked with her to the door and ushered her out before he closed the door behind her, his head lowered so that it was in shadow.

The only thing that gave away his anger was the tight grip he had on the door knob....

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Oeuf Part 3**

**DINER**

Eva sits at a back booth with four boys: C.J. Lincoln (14), Jesse Turner (12), and Chris O'Halloran (10). Each boy has ordered a milkshake, but unlike the others, Chris hasn’t touched his. Eva seemed distant, distracted.  
  
"Don’t be sad about Connor." C.J. said.  
  
"Connor didn’t choose us. He tried but I guess I didn’t do a very good job being his mother." Eva said.  
  
"It’s not your fault." C.J. said.  
  
"I couldn’t make him understand. The family you’re born into isn’t really family. Those are just people you didn’t choose. You have to make family. That’s what we’re doing. We’re making our family." Eva said.

Chris worked up the courage to ask, "What happened to your family?"  
  
"We’re her family." C.J. said.  
  
"I meant your other family." Chris said.  
  
"I had a brother like you boys have brothers. He showed me that the family you think is family is just a stepping stone to real family." Eva said.  
  
"You have to step on that stone." C.J. said.

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL**

A laptop computer screen fills frame two Amber alter photos appear side-by-side on screen: one of Jesse Turner, the other of Connor Frist. 

Will sat alone at the table in front of the room. Beverly entered. Studying the photos of the two boys, Will doesn’t look up. Not much can distract him when he’s concentrating. Surprisingly Clarice was no where to be found but it didn't mean that she wasn't close by.  
  
"Ever heard of Willard Wigan? He’s this artist who does micro sculptures, like putting the Obamas in the eye of a needle. He’s so focused that he can work between beats of his heart. I guess archers do that too, right?" Beverly said.  
  
"Hm?" Will said.  
  
"What are you looking at?" Beverly asked as she moved around to see what has captured Will’s attention. It’s only now that he acknowledges her presence.  
  
Will motioned to the boys’ photos and said, "These kids are both small. Underweight for their age."  
  
"You think there’s a connection?" Beverly asked.  
  
"I’m thinking possible ADHD diagnoses for both boys. Ritalin, Focalin, any medication containing methylphenidate can affect appetite and slow long-term growth in kids." Will said.

A beat as both coworkers inspect the two photos. Then Beverly asked, "Another thing about Willard Wigan? He had a lonely childhood. He used his tiny sculptures as an escape."  
  
"Who’s Willard Wigan?" Will asked confused.

Beverly smiled.  
  
"Price got a hit from the ballistics matching program he’s been running on the two family murders. The bullet that put Mrs. Frist out of her misery matches three used in a murder in Fort Smith, Arkansas a year ago. Mother of a 13-year-old boy shot to death with her own gun." Beverly said.  
  
"13-year-old milk carton material?" Will said.

**BEHAVIORAL SCIENCE SERVICES**

An Amber Alter photo of C.J. Lincoln, he’s dark-haired, thin, and wears a smirk.

"C.J. Lincoln disappeared six months before his mother’s murder and hasn’t been heard from since." Jack said.  
  
The picture of C.J. Lincoln is displayed on a monitor, along with his juvenile rap sheet. Jack, Will, Clarice, Zeller, Price and Katz are gathered around the monitor studying C.J. Lincoln.  
  
"He has none of the characteristics of a sociopath or a sadist." Will said.  
  
"No shoplifting, no malicious destruction of property, no assault and no battery. He was kind to animals for god’s sake." Jack said.

"But the firearm says we’re looking at Peter Pan to our Lost Boys." Will said.  
  
Clarice doesn't say anything as she looked at the photo of the teenage boy, while he didn't have any of characteristics of a sociopath or sadist, it didn't mean that they couldn't show up later in life.

"It requires a sophisticated level of manipulation to convince boys to kill their families in cold blood." Jack said.  
  
"Kindness to animals doesn’t suggest that kind of sophistication." Will said.  
  
"He’s older, been out in the world. Could’ve picked up a few tricks." Jack said.

**CONVENIENCE STORE**

C.J. Lincoln watched a woman in her 40s named Eva with her young boy of about 10 named Chris. Chris is distant and numb, perhaps a developmentally challenged child. Eva fumbled through her purse standing at the check-out counter. Chris turned to see he is being watched. C.J. Lincoln’s cold, dead stare cuts right through Chris, who shrinked from the other boy’s gaze.

After a moment, Eva looks up from her purse and realizes, "Oh, honey."

Eva begins clutching napkins off the counter next to the spinning hot dog warmer, sopping up the urine from the floor as she apologized profusely to the convenience store clerk.  
  
"I’m so sorry. He’s never done this before. I’ll pay for the napkins." Eva said.  
  
"Don’t worry about it." The convenience store clerk said.

Eva felt Chris’s forehead, putting her cheek to his cheek to check his temperature.  
  
"Are you feeling okay? You have a fever? You don’t feel warm." Eva said.

Clerk handed her a plastic bag for the urine-stained napkins.  
  
"Thank you. I’m so embarrassed." Eva said then she looked at Chris. "But you shouldn’t be embarrassed. This happens with little bladders."  
  
He doesn’t talk but his eyes drifted back to C.J. Lincoln, who is no longer standing in the Convenience Store.

**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL HOBB’S ROOM**

Abigail studied Hannibal as he waited by the door as she said, "I don’t think I’m allowed to leave after I climbed the fence."  
  
"I’ve made arrangements. You could say I’m one of your guardians." Hannibal said.  
  
"Where are we going?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Home. My home. I thought you might enjoy it if I cooked for you. I’ll have you back before bedtime." Hannibal said.  
  
"Can I spend the night? I don’t like sleeping here. I have bad dreams." Abigail said.  
  
"You have to sleep in your own bed." Hannibal said.  
  
"This isn’t my bed." Abigail said.

"Tell me about your bad dreams." Hannibal said.  
  
"I had one where Marissa is sending me picture texts. Like crime scene photos. Of Nicholas Boyle, gutted." Abigail said.  
  
"How you left him." Hannibal said.  
  
"Even though she’s dead, I’m afraid Marissa’s gonna tell everyone I killed him and they’ll think I’m just like my dad. Sorry. I can’t really talk about this in group." Abigail said.  
  
"There are people here who open their mouths and every sin against them can come tumbling out. You don’t have that luxury, Abigail." Hannibal said.

Abigail tossed the book on her bed and looked for her coat as she said, "I just have to get used to lying."  
  
"You must only lie about one thing. And when you’re with me, you don’t have to lie about anything." Hannibal said.  
  
"In the dream, I wonder how I’d live with myself knowing what I did." Abigail said.  
  
"And when you’re awake?" Hannibal asked.

She shrugged on her coat, thoughtful.

"And when I’m awake, I know I can live with myself. I know I will just get used to what I did." Abigail finally said.

Hannibal studied her with a sense of paternal pride.  
  
"Does that make me a sociopath?" Abigail asked.  
  
"No. It makes you a survivor." Hannibal said.

 **HANNIBAL’S HOME**  
  
Mushrooms bound like a flower in a crystal cup blossom and open in the piping hot water.  
  
Tomatoes roast as Hannibal cuts potatoes in perfect half-inch cubes, tossing them into a pan with whole unpeeled garlic gloves and thyme. He grinded fresh meat, which also is tossed into the sizzling pan as Abigail looked on from nearby.  
  
"It’s important to know when it’s time to turn the page. Have you thought about applying to schools?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"My dad killed girls at all the schools I applied to." Abigail said.  
  
"Perhaps that can wait then." Hannibal said.  
  
"I want to work for the F.B.I." Abigail said. 

Hannibal’s face cracked into a warm grin..  
  
"I would certainly feel safer if you were in the hallowed halls of the F.B.I. protecting my interests." Hannibal said.  
  
"They wouldn’t let me, would they? Because of what my dad did." Abigail said.  
  
"Only if they believe that is in your nature, too." Hannibal said.  
  
"Nature versus nurture."  
  
"We don’t invent our natures, Abigail. They’re issued to us, with our lungs and pancreas and everything else. Can’t fight it." Hannibal said.  
  
"I don’t know what my nature is." Abigail said.  
  
"You are not your father’s daughter. Not anymore." Hannibal said.  
  
"What would’ve happened to my dad if you guys didn’t kill him?" Abigail asked.  
  
"We live in a primitive time, Abigail. Neither savage nor wise. He’d be exactly where he is now." Hannibal said. "Be grateful for your scars."  
  
"Grateful." Abigail said.  
  
"Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real. Anchors us. We all need to be anchored." Hannibal said.

Abigail goes quiet.  
  
"What if it weren’t so painful anymore to think of him?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"My dad?" Abigail asked.  
  
Have you ever taken psilocybin?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Mushrooms? That’s what’s in the tea?" Abigail asked.  
  
Hannibal nods his head and said, "There are those psychiatrists who believe altered states could be used to access traumatic memories."  
  
"I have all the access to traumatic memories I need. Unlimited access." Abigail said.  
  
"Which is why we need to supplement them with positive associations. No more bad dreams, Abigail." Hannibal said.  
  
"You want me to do drugs?" Abigail asked.  
  
"I want you to do this drug. With my supervision. Where it’s safe." Hannibal said as he offered her cup. "Do you trust me?"

**JACK'S OFFICE**

Jack, Will, Clarice, Zeller, Katz, and Price hover around the case board that bears the photos of each of the boys they've identified as taking part in the family killings. It also includes a time line of their respective abductions, the dates of the murders they participated in, and a map pinpointing where each of the murders took place. Jack twists a push pin into the map at Bangor, Maine.  
  
"Bangor, Maine. Stamford, Connecticut. And most recently, Reston, Virginia." Jack said.  
  
"That places each of the murders approximately five hundred miles from the one before it." Jimmy said.  
  
"You’re trying to attach a geographical pattern to murders that took place weeks apart." Brian said.  
  
"Other patterns too. Our shooters are minors. Middle children from traditional affluent families." Will said.  
  
"They’re not traveling by Greyhound." Beverly said.  
  
"I drove my dad’s car when I was 14." Jimmy said.  
  
"They’re moving southbound, we’re looking somewhere on the border of Georgia and North Carolina." Jack said.

He circles the area on the map.

Brian said, exasperated, "There's hundreds of towns in this area. Off every freeway ramp."  
  
"Got a better idea?" Jack said.  
  
"Throw darts." Brian said.

He wilted under Jack’s gaze.

Clarice stifled a laugh by turning it into a cough and cleared her throat as she covered her smile with her hand. Will looked at her in a slight disapproving manner but he doesn't say anything to her about it.  
  
"There’s a pattern. Less to do with geography than psychology." Will said.  
  
"What kind of kid would do this?" Jack said.  
  
"And what kind of kid would follow a kid who did this?" Will said.  
  
"The shepherd and his flock." Beverly said.  
  
"When a sheep ran away, the shepherd used to break its leg to keep it from running away again. It forced the sheep to rely on the shepherd." Jimmy said.  
  
"Cruel-to-be-kind." Beverly said.  
  
"Animals remember the voice of a trusted, familiar person. They also remember people who inflict abuse on them." Will said.  
  
"There’s no indication these kids came from abusive families." Jack said.  
  
"Capture-bonding. A passive, psychological response to a new master. It’s been an essential survival tool for a million years. Bond with your captor, you survive. Don’t, you’re breakfast." Will said.  
  
"Get files on every missing boy within 200 miles of North Carolina." Jack said.

**HANNIBAL’S HOME - KITCHEN**

The tea cup shifts and distorts at first slightly, then more aggressively, appearing to demolecularize as a hand passes through it. A shattering crash of china reveals Abigail staring at the shattered tea cup on the floor.  
  
Hannibal's voice and movements are thick, plodding.  
  
"Doctor Bloom said this was okay?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Not at all. We often have a difference of opinion." Hannibal said.  
  
"Another secret for us." Abigail said.  
  
"You and I will have many secrets." Hannibal said. "Infusing psilocybin into the bloodstream before psychotherapy can elicit a positive, even spiritual, experience for patients."  
  
"I’m not your patient." Abigail said.  
  
"No, you’re my guest." Hannibal said. "Psychological trauma is an affliction of the powerless. I want to give you your power back."   
  
"I don’t feel good." Abigail said feeling queasy.  
  
"That feeling will pass. Allow it to wash over you, through you. Let me be your guide, Abigail." Hannibal said.

Abigail eyes the food Hannibal’s preparing and the orange juice dripping into a glass from a Philippe Starck juicer.  
  
"You’re making breakfast for dinner?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Not just breakfast. High Life eggs. A chef in Spain called Muro claims he invented it in the 19th century." Hannibal said.

Hannibal threw an egg in the air, catches it on the edge of a knife, cracking it and holding it in place as the contents drool onto a slice of brioche with a hole already in a pan. The sausage sizzles and crackles in its own pan, almost done.  
  
"Taste is not only biochemical, it’s also psychological, evoking memories of places and experiences." Hannibal said.  
  
"Eggs and sausage was the last meal I was having with my parents." Abigail said.  
  
"I know. It’s also the first meal you’re having with me." Hannibal said.

**EXAMINATION ROOM**

Will, Clarice, Beverly and Alana sit at a conference table with many discarded file folders of missing or abducted kids. There are fourteen pictures arrayed in view, a range of faces.  
  
"If we’re looking for our next Trilby, are we assuming C.J. Lincoln is in the Svengali role?" Alana asked.  
  
"Sounds like me at fourteen." Beverly said.  
  
"Without the interference of a leader, these kids would never consider violent action." Alana said.  
  
"A fuse yet to be lit." Beverly said.  
  
"A buried darkness. An ink-spot on their soul. It takes a catalyst to bring that to the surface." Alana said. 

The conversation makes Will uncomfortable. He paces the table, studying in turn the fourteen pictures.  
  
"Our Trilby’s a boy, a paradox in the midst of a normal family, an outsider who doesn’t look like one. He’d be good at a vocation, something inventive or mechanical." Will said as he leafs through files, discarding ones that don’t fit. Next to him, Clarice did the same stopping every now again to look at a photo before she discards it.

Alana looked at Will and said, "Would’ve been a perfect candidate."  
  
"I would have." Will said. "He’d have hobbies that require hand-eye coordination, that are off the beaten path... that link up to what his father does for a living. Something that consumes him so as to keep him engaged."  
  
"The devil makes work for idle hands kind of thing." Beverly said as she skimmed the files, tossing ones aside. Beverly held up a photo; it’s the urinating boy Chris. "Here’s one. Family moved from Biloxi, to Charleston to Fayetteville in the last three years. He won Junior High award for his work on pretty sophisticated computer circuitry."  
  
"Chris O'Halloran." Will said.  
  
"Why do you think these kids are susceptible to C.J. Lincoln?" Alana said.  
  
"Because he may have a brother, but their ages or interests set them apart. A brother without a brother." Will said.  
  
"Brothers looking for a mother." Alana said.

The simplicity of that strikes Will like a bullet as he and Clarice share a look, he could see that she just had the same thought as he did.

**JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE**

As Will entered with Clarice behind him, Jack looked up from his computer.  
  
"It’s not just C.J. Lincoln. There’s an adult with some formative sway. It’s a woman. A mother figure. She’s looking to form a family." Will said.  
  
"Family can have a contagion effect on the alienated. You adopt the same attitudes, the same behaviors." Jack said.  
  
"I never got bit by that bug." Will said.  
  
"I managed to avoid it myself." Jack said.  
  
"Whoever this woman is, she wants these children to... burst with love for her. And she needs to erase their families to do that." Clarice said then.  
  
"She abducts them, convinces them no one can love them like she does. Then makes absolutely sure of it." Jack said.

Will handed Jack the file on Chris O’Halloran.  
  
"Security camera from a convenience store in Alexandria, Virginia captured surveillance footage of Chris O’Halloran this morning. He was with an unidentified woman." Will said.

"Where’s this kid’s family?" Jack said.  
  
"Fayetteville, North Carolina." Will said.

"Let's go before another child kills his own family." Clarice said eager to get going to save this boy and the others.

**O’HALLORAN HOME FAYETTEVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA**

Chris stood alone on the doorstep of his family’s home. He heard footsteps approaching to answer the door. The front door openrf and Chris’s mother, Marcy O’Halloran (40s) gasped to find her missing son suddenly returned to her.  
  
"Christopher? Oh my god, Chris!" Marcy said.

She threw her arms around the boy. A moment of true joy and elation. But when she looked in Chris’s eyes she sees something that frightens her. His eyes are dead.

C.J. stepped out of the darkness, handing him a gun, "Your turn, Chris."

\----

An elegant, A-frame house oozing with lazy, Magnolia-scented Carolina charm. A florist delivery van quietly pulled up in front of the frame. Jack emerged from the sliding side doors as F.B.I. agents and armed SWAT members swarm toward the house.  
  
A SWAT guy with an air-ram blasts open the door. Jack leads our team behind the front guard of SWAT followed by Will, Clarice, Zeller, Price and Katz, guns drawn and at the low ready. They swept through the house, they went off to cover various rooms, balletic in movement...

Jack cautiously brought up the rear. Weapon at the ready, he carefully stepped toward the back of the house.  
  
He looked through the window to the backyard. Where the O'Hallorans were in the process of a barbecue lunch. But something’s gone wrong.  
  
"F.B.I., Drop the weapon!" Jack ordered

He motioned Will and the others forward.  
  
A barbecue tableaux played all over America every weekend of the year. Weber grill. A-One steak sauce. Burgers and dogs cooking red hot. Only one thing wrong: the Lost Boys (C.J. Lincoln, Jesse Turner, and Chris O'Halloran, along with two other boys) are formed in a semicircle around the terrified O'Halloran parents (Dad, Mom, a boy and a girl). C.J. holds a gun to the O’Halloran Father.

Jack bursted into the yard. SWAT is there in various positions. Will, Zeller, Price and Katz bring up the rear. C.J. tensed his finger on the trigger to fire at Mr. O'Halloran. BLAM! In a split second miscalculation, C.J. missed his dead-to-rights shot of the back of Mr. O’Halloran’s head and instead took off a portion of his ear. A second shot rings out and C.J. is hit in the head. 

C.J. Lincoln face-planted on the grill, cheek seared at 400 degrees. Chris O’Halloran bolted. A SWAT member raised his gun but Will took off after the young boy.  
  
"I got him." Will said.

Clarice remained behind with the others as she looked at the children and slowly lowered her gun.

C.J. sprawled dead, everyone else frozen in shock. Zeller pulled C.J. off the grill, his body slumping to the ground. Mr. O'Halloran clutched his bloody ear, alive. SWAT members cuff Jesse Turner and the other boys.

\---------------  
  
Will sprinted in pursuit along with several other SWAT guys.

\-------------

EMTS rush to Mr. O'Halloran. The SWAT team cuff and remove Jesse Turner and the two young boys. Jack moved to the O'Halloran children (ages 8 and 12). His manner with them is gentle. "I’m Jack Crawford. I’m with the F.B.I. We’re here to help you. You guys okay?" Jack said.

They nod. Zeller and Price move quickly to help Mr. O’Halloran and guide he and his wife inside.

Jack speaks gently to the O’Halloran children, "Your Dad’s going to be alright. So are you. Give me your hands. I’m going to take you inside."

His calmness worked. The daughter (8) reached out to clasp his outstretched hand, Jack looked at her with compassion. Clarice appeared behind him and held out her hand to the boy with a friendly smile on her lips and the son reached out to clasp her hand, the woman gently squeezed his small hand.

Once she led him inside, she quickly left to follow after Will and the SWAT guys.

\--------

Chris was running for his life.  
  
"Chris, stop." Will said. 

Chris pulled up short and he turned around. And it is shown that there's a gun in his hand, Will and several SWAT guys taking positions ten yards away from Chris.

Will said to SWAT, "Don’t shoot." Then to Chris. "You don’t have to worry about C.J. anymore. It’s okay. You’re home now. Put down the gun, Christopher."

Chris shuffled on his feet, eyes welling. And this is when Will has a realization...  
  
"Shoot him, Christopher." A woman's voice said.

Another figure emerged from the shadows. It’s Eva. She too has a gun in her hand, but it’s at the back of Christopher’s spine.  
  
Eva said, "Shoot him for me." Then to Will. "Drop your gun. For my boy."  
  
"You’re his new mother." Will said.  
  
"I am. And I love him, but I will do what I have to do for my family." Eva said.  
  
"You abducted these boys. Your “son” C.J. killed your other “son” Connor. You burned his remains to honor him as his mother." Will said.

She studied Will, how dare he question her motherhood.  
  
"I’m honoring them like their other mothers wouldn’t. They’re not invisible anymore. I can see them. I see who they are and love them." Eva said.  
  
"Be Christopher’s mother now. Protect him. Don’t murder him." Will said.  
  
"The most loving mothers commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we are. A subtle kind of murder." Eva said.

Will lets the gun fall to the ground.  
  
"Shoot him, Christopher. Like I showed you." Eva order to Chris.

Chris’s traumatized glance pierced Will’s heart.  
  
"Christopher, please." Will said.

She raised her gun. The shot is so immediate and unexpected that Will checked his stomach to see where the bullet hit. It takes a moment for Will to realize he hasn’t been hit at all. Eva spun, her shoulder erupting in a cloud of arterial spray as she is hit. Chris’s arm goes limp at his side.

Clarice, gun outstretched, smoke issuing from the barrel is walking towards them. Will kneeled in front of Chris, gently taking the gun from his hand. Will watched as Clarice moved in and almost motherly guides Chris away, talking kindly and smiling sweetly at him. Will crossed to fallen Eva on the ground; she takes sharp breaths, tensing through the pain. As the SWAT team surrounded her, Will stared down at her.

Condemnation at what she’s done to these boys...

\---

Chris O’Halloran sat on a bench of the F.B.I. tactical van, alone. After a moment, the back doors open, blasting daylight and silhouetting Jack as he entered. He sat opposite the small boy, who does not look up at the imposing man studying him.   
  
"Can I go home now?" Chris finally asked.  
  
"No. You might not get to go home for a long time..." Jack said. "You came here to kill your family. That’s all anybody knows. That’s all anyone may ever believe."  
  
"I wasn’t going to do it." Chris said.  
  
"You’re going to talk to a lot of people who will try to understand exactly what you were going to do." Jack said.  
  
"Am I going to jail?" Chris said.  
  
"I don’t think you have the capacity to plan and execute murder. The civilized thing to do with you would be counseling and rehabilitation, not prison." Jack said.  
  
"She told me they weren’t my family. That we had to make our own family." Chris said. "Do you have a family?"  
  
"I don’t have children, no." Jack admitted.  
  
"Then you don’t know what it’s like." Chris said.  
  
"I wish to god you hadn’t gone with that woman, but you did. All of that can’t just suddenly be undone. But in time, if you trust me, we can start undoing what we can." Jack said.  
  
"Can I talk to my mom? My real mom?" Chris asked.  
  
"In a little while, but right now I need you to talk to me." Jack said.

**HANNIBAL’S HOME**

Hannibal held the door open as Alana entered, annoyed with him and searching for the words to express it.  
  
"As someone who makes such a big deal about common courtesy, I’m a little taken aback, slash a lot taken aback, that you would check my patient, my patient, out of the hospital without permission. I’m not a professional scold. Don’t put me in this position ever again." Alana said said.  
  
"I’m sorry." Hannibal said.  
  
"Rude, Hannibal. Shockingly rude." Alana said.  
  
"You have every right to be upset with me. I overstepped my bounds." Hannibal said.  
  
"Where is she?" Alana asked.  
  
She’s in the dining room." Hannibal said.  
  
Alana moved toward the dining room, but Hannibal put a gentle hand on her shoulder to slow her down.  
  
"Alana, you were right." Hannibal said.  
  
"Often am. Have to be more specific." Alana said.  
  
"She wasn’t ready to leave the hospital. She experienced a bit of anxiety so I gave her a sedative." Hannibal said.  
  
"A sedative?" Alana asked.  
  
"Half a valium. She may be a little hazy." Hannibal said.  
  
Hannibal and Alana enter to find Abigail sitting at the table with food and teacup in front of her.  
  
"Hi, Doctor Bloom." Abigail said.

Alana noticed the third place setting and asked, "You were expecting me?"  
  
"In the interest of honesty, we were expecting Will Graham. But my phone calls went unreturned." Hannibal said pulling out chair. Or Clarice Starling, Hannibal added silently to himself, since he had originally wanted her here. "Please. Sit down."

Alana does as instructed.  
  
"Are you hungry? Hannibal made breakfast for dinner." Abigail said.  
  
"I could eat." Alana said.

Hannibal noticed Abigail smiling at him and Alana,"What is it? What do you see?"  
  
"I see family." Abigail said.  
  
Hannibal smiled at Alana, who is more thoughtful, unsure how to feel about Abigail’s admission. 

**JACK CRAWFORD’S BEDROOM**

Jack laid in bed by himself, reading. After a moment, his wife, Bella Crawford, beautiful in her late 40s, entered.  
  
"Hello." Jack said.  
  
"Hello." Bella said.

He watched silently as she disrobed and crawled into bed.  
  
"Is it too late for us to have kids?" Jack asked.

Bella Crawford paused briefly and considered the question before curling onto her side, back to Jack.  
  
"It is for me." Bell said.

She shut off the light on her night stand leaving Jack and his side of the bed half in light, half in dark.

After a moment, Jack turns off his own light.

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE**

Will laid in his bed watching as the last of his dogs finally settle and go to sleep, his own children happy in their beds. He smiled and closed his eyes.

**Clarice Starling's House**

Clarice laid bed reading as she idly stroked her sleeping cat, listening to him purr, her own child happy in her company. She smiled and closed her book before she turned off the light and closes her eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed it from Beverly shooting to Clarice...


	14. Chapter 14

**Coquilles Part 1**

**HANNIBAL’S HOUSE - DINING ROOM - NIGHT**

A spoon full of sauce is followed by a garnish. Jack and his beautiful wife Bella sat at Hannibal’s table, their host preparing the next course. Bella watched her husband take a drink of his wine, savoring the flavor. He glanced up, catching her looking, and when he does, his smile is genuine, her smile is forced.

Hannibal entered carrying individual Terrines of Foie Gras.

"A masterpiece foie gras Au torchon with a late harvest Vidal sauce and dry and fresh figs." Hannibal said. He places the terrines in front of the Crawfords. "Mrs. Crawford, your husband introduced you as Bella. Are you an Isabelle or an Annabelle?"  
  
"I’m a Phyllis. But Jack only calls me Phyllis when we disagree." Bella said.  
  
"So named Bella for your beauty?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"We were both stationed in Italy. I was Army. She was NATO staff. The Italian men called her Bella. But I wanted her to be my Bella." Jack said before he took a bite of cold foie gras with warm figs.

Bella eyes the Terrine of Foie Gras as she asked, "Would I be a horrible guest if I skipped this course?"

"Too rich?" Hannibal asked as he looked at her.  
  
"Too cruel." Bella said.  
  
"Phyllis." Jack said.  
  
"First and worst sign of sociopathic behavior: cruelty to animals." Hannibal said.  
  
"That doesn’t apply in the kitchen." Jack said.  
  
"I have no taste for animal cruelty. The goose, in this case the gander, is not force fed. It eats only as much as it chooses and only in its natural environment." Hannibal said before he looked to Jack. "Would you like your wife’s serving?"  
  
Jacked nodded his head and said, "Please."  
  
"At my table, just the cruel deserve cruelty, Mrs. Crawford. Which is why I employ an ethical butcher." Hannibal said.  
  
"An ethical butcher? Be kind to animals and then eat them?" Bella said.  
  
"I’m afraid I insist on it. No need for unnecessary suffering. Human emotions are gifts from our animal ancestors. Cruelty is the gift humanity has given itself." Hannibal said.  
  
"The gift that keeps giving." Jack said.

Hannibal leaned over Bella, pouring more wine into her glass, "Your perfume is exquisite, similar to the aroma on the air just after lightning strikes. Is it Jar?"

"You’ve got some nose, Doctor." Bella said.  
  
"I first noticed my keen sense of smell when I was a young man. I was aware one of my teachers had stomach cancer even before he did." Hannibal said it was something he used to his advantage especially when in the presence of Clarice who smelled wonderfully.  
  
"Makes an effective parlor trick." Jack said.

An almost imperceptible reaction from Bella. Exactly the effect Hannibal was trying to achieve. Then he said, "Our next course is roasted pork shank. And I assure you, Bella, it was an especially supercilious pig."

**THE ROAD**

It stretched into the night in front of Will, vibrating in and out of focus as beams of light cut through the darkness. He instinctively held up his arm to shield his eyes from the glare of the bright headlights. They belonged to an approaching police car. It rolled to a stop. Two police officers stepped out of either side of a police car.

"Are you lost?" One of the police officers asked him.  
  
"What?" Will asked confused.  
  
"What’s your name?" The Police Officer asked.  
  
"Will Graham." Will said.  
  
"You know where you are, Mr. Graham?" The officer asked.  
  
"No." Will said.  
  
"Where do you live?" The uniformed man asked.  
  
"Wolf Trap, Virginia." Will answered.  
  
"We’re in Wolf Trap. So that’s good. You’re close to home." The police officer said. "Is that yours?"

Will Graham slowly glanced over to see, not the black Stag of his nightmare, but the tail-wagging concern of Winston.  
  
"Hi, Winston." Will said to the dog. Winston can barely contain himself, worried about Will. As his dog nudged Will, he becomes aware he is in mild pain. "Can I sit down? My feet hurt."  
  
"Why don’t we take you home?" The officer asked.

Will slide into the police car followed immediately thereafter by Winston. A standard-issue wool blanket wrapped around his shoulders, Will plucked gravel out of his feet while trying to keep Winston from licking his wounds and his face. One of the police officers hover over him, flashlights shining politely.  
  
"Are you on any drugs, medications? Prescription or otherwise?" The police officer asked.  
  
"No." Will said shaking his head.  
  
"Have you been drinking?" The officer asked.  
  
"No. Yes. Not excessively. I had two fingers of whiskey before bed." Will answered honestly.  
  
"Do you have a history of sleepwalking, Mr. Graham?

Will shakes his head “no” and said, "I’m not even sure I’m awake now."

**Clarice's House**

Clarice is staring out the window with a steaming cup of coffee in her hand, her other hand was unconsciousness petting Salem as she blankly stared out the window until her phone suddenly rang surprising her out of her daze. She picked up her phone and without looking at the Caller ID, she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Clarice." Hannibal's voice said from the other end of the phone causing her to sit straight, her blue eyes widening in surprise as a blush appeared on her cheeks. Not that he could see her reaction but she couldn't help it, especially not after what had happened in his office.

"Morning, Doctor Lecter." Clarice managed to get out after she remembered how to return a greeting.

"How are you doing?" The doctor asked.

Clarice hummed before she said, "Good."

"Oh? Then why are you up so early then?" Hannibal asked.

"...How do you know that this isn't the normal time that I get up?"

Hannibal chuckled over the phone, "Lying to me again, Clarice?"

"...You know what? It's really scary how you can tell when I am lying."

"You're very easy to read." 

"Great." Clarice drawled out. "I will never play poker with anyone."

The doctor laughed and said, "Now tell me why you are up so early, Clarice."

"....." Clarice is silent. "It has something to do with the ranch, Doctor Lecter...I will tell you about it the next time I see you."

"Is that a promise, Clarice?"

Clarice closed her eyes tightly to stop the tears from falling, "Yes, it's a promise."

"Then I will hold you to it." Hannibal said. "Now get back to bed and get your rest, I want you to be alert when you talk about your childhood at the ranch." 

"I will, good bye." Clarice said.

"Good bye, Clarice." Hannibal said before he hung up.

She lowered the phone and stared at it, was it just her or did it sound like he purred out her name in a tone filled with seduction and darkness? Clarice shuddered at the thought.

Clarice couldn't help but fell like a lamb before the hungry eyes of a wolf.

**THE WELCOME INN MOTEL**

The pre-lapping sound of an ice machine ice machine cubes of ice drop one by one, falling onto a larger pile of ice in a hypnotic fashion. A lone man standing at the Ice Machine, a sheen of sweat coating the nape of his neck.

A family of three (man, woman and child) shuffled by juggling their suitcases. The Lone Man scooped ice into his bucket to not draw attention to himself, glancing at the Family. The child smiled and the Lone Man looked away. The Woman drew the child closer, protective but not too obvious.

The Lone Man returned his attention to the Ice Machine. He slowly turned to see a couple emerging from their room and walking toward the Ice Machine with a bucket. As they approach, the Lone Man quickly starts scooping up ice into his bucket. He’s apparently afraid to look at Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, but can’t help himself.  
  
The flesh of Mr. and Mrs. Anderson’s face and hands are monstrously distorted, rippling trails of heat emanate from their bodies as his skin roils with flame. Demonic. Hallucinogenic. The Lone Man averted his eyes toward the bucket of ice. The reflective fire of the approaching couple flickers off the ice, of the ice beginning to melt...

**HANNIBAL’S HOUSE - EARLY MORNING BALTIMORE, MARYLAND**

The vapor pressure of the water in the lower chamber pushes water up into the higher chamber, through the coffee grounds. Hannibal wore his bathrobe, having been roused from sleep. It was an hour or two after his call with Clarice, he tried not to abuse the fact that he had her number but he couldn't stop himself from calling her and hearing her voice. Even though she sounded stressed and tired, she still had a lovely voice. Her accent came out more when she was either stressed or tired...or angry.

Will stood nearby, fully clothed, relatively bright eyed.

"Although I may be, is it safe to assume you’re not sleepwalking now?" Hannibal asked as he poured the coffee into two cups

"I’m sorry it’s so early." Will said.

"Never apologize for coming to me. Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends." Hannibal said as he hands Will a cup of coffee. "Onset of sleepwalking in adulthood is less common than in children."

"Could it be a seizure?" Will asked.

"I’d argue good old-fashioned post traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty." Hannibal said.

"Wasn’t forced back into the field." Will said.

"I wouldn’t say forced. Manipulated would be the word I’d choose." Hannibal said.

"I can handle it." Will said.  
  
"Somewhere between denying horrible events and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma." Hannibal said.  
  
"So I can’t handle it?" Will asked.  
  
"Your experience may’ve overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control." Hannibal said.  
  
"If my body is walking around without my permission, you’d say that’s a loss of control?" Will asked.  
  
"Wouldn’t you?" Hannibal asked. "Sleepwalkers demonstrate a difficulty handling aggression. Are you experiencing difficulty with aggressive feelings?" There was a pause. "Do you know if Clarice suffers from sleepwalking as well?" Just the thought of Clarice wandering around at night, vulnerable and defenseless is enough to agitate the cannibal though not visibly.

Will thinks long and hard about that, then he said, "You said Jack sees me as fine china used for special guests. Beginning to feel more like an old mug." Will shakes his head at Hannibal's question. "No, Clarice doesn't suffer from sleepwalking. She can handle her aggressive feelings very well." Too well in fact but Will knew, even if she doesn't share too much of her childhood with him, that she was very much like him: broken.   
  
"You entered into a Devil’s Bargain with Jack Crawford. Takes a toll." Hannibal said as he smiled internally, happy that the woman was safe and sound in her home despite the fact that she had nightmares.  
  
"Jack’s not the devil." Will denied. "Just don't tell Clarice that or else she'll start making hell quips around him and then I'll have to explain it to him."  
  
"When it comes to how far he’s willing to push you to get what he wants, Jack’s certainly no saint." Hannibal said. "I wouldn't dream of telling her that, she doesn't need to know about it."

Will takes that in...

\-------

Clarice looked over when she heard her cell phone rang and half-dressed (she wore a black button up dress shirt and black lacy cheeky panties) walked to her phone to answer it, she glanced at the Caller I.D. and smiled when she saw who it was.

"Hey, Dad." Clarice said when she answered it.

"Hey, Angel." Anthony said. "I didn't wake you, did?"

"No, I was already up." Clarice said. "How are you?"

"Doing good, just got home, but I know you're not." Anthony said. 

Clarice frowned at that, she had gotten some sleep after hanging up the phone with Dr. Lecter, "Oh?"

"You are forcing yourself cheerful, Angel." 

"...You know me so well." Clarice said.

Anthony laughed and said, "You learned how to read people from me, Angel...just get some rest otherwise when we come for the visit, your mother would notice those bags and spend the entire visit trying to sit on you like a mother hen."

"I hope you're right, Dad."

"Me too, Angel." Anthony said. "I'll let you go, be safe and always keep one hand on your gun."

"I will and you too, Dad." She then hanged up the phone and placed her cell phone down before she went to finish getting dressed.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, the very first sex scene...though it's a dream >.> sorry for the tease! :P

**Coquilles Part 2**

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE**

Hannibal opened his door to find Bella Crawford sitting in his waiting room, beautiful even in repose.  
  
"Mrs. Crawford. Please come in." Hannibal said.  
  
Inside his office, Hannibal sat opposite Bella.  
  
"How often do you see him?" Hannibal said.  
  
"Twice a week at first. Now it’s usually just once." Bella said.  
  
"You’re satisfied then?" Hannibal asked.

Bella shrugged her shoulders and said, "Enough to keep seeing him."  
  
"Your intention is not to tell Jack." Hannibal observed.  
  
"I don’t know what good it will do. It would just be complaining. I don’t complain. Makes it easier to be intolerant of complainers." Bella said.  
  
"You’re allowed to complain." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’ll complain to you. Jack sees the world at its worst. Don’t need him seeing me at mine. He already has too much to worry about." Bella said.  
  
"He has room for one more worry." Hannibal said. "Seems like you’re protecting him."  
  
"I am." Bella said and heaved a sigh, knowing what is ahead. "I’ve had dinner at your home. You have a professional relationship with my husband. There’s no conflict of interest me being here?"

Hannibal smiled, appreciateed the attempt at deflection, "It’s unorthodox but not unheard of." Then he sobered. "Given the nature of your problem, seeing someone who knows Jack removes some of the guesswork."  
  
"This all started as some misguided stab at maintaining my dignity." Bella said.  
  
"Nothing undignified about this." Hannibal said.  
  
"Not yet, but I have indignity to look forward to, don’t I?" Bella said.  
  
"Only indignity I see is resentment. Why do you resent your husband?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I resent that Jack has too much to worry about to worry about me." Bella answered.  
  
"That’s your choice, not his." Hannibal said.  
  
"Maybe you should see us both for couples counseling." Bella said amused.  
  
"I’d recommend another psychiatrist for couples. I wouldn’t want you to have the home couch advantage." Hannibal said.  
  
"It’s hard enough dealing with how I feel about all this. Don’t need to deal with how Jack feels about it." Bella said.

Hannibal was curious to look into Jack Crawford’s life...

**“THE WELCOME INN” MOTEL TRENTON, NEW JERSEY**

A bungalow-style travel lodge in its seedy, ramshackle heyday. Jack, Clarice and Will move through the gauntlet of shell-shocked local police officers and F.B.I. agents milling about coroner's vans and police cars.  
  
"Room was registered to John Smith, along with every other room here." Jack said.  
  
"Appalling failure of imagination." Will said.  
  
"They paid with cash. No security cameras on the premises. The motel practically advertises it." Jack said.  
  
"John Smith one of the victims?" Will asked.  
  
"Mr. and Mrs. Anderson according to the register. Mutilated, displayed. Thought it might be the Chesapeake Ripper but no surgical trophies were taken." Jack said. "I need you to prepare yourselves."  
  
"I’m prepared." Will said.

"It can't be even worse than what I've seen already."  
  
"Prepare yourself some more. It’s soup in there." Jack warned.  
  
"Soup isn’t good for the soul." Will said.  
  
"Not this soup. No jurisdictional rivalry here. Local Police practically begged us to take it." Jack said.

"...Now that's not a good sigh." Clarice drawled out with a heavy sign.

Jack snapped fingers to get Will’s attention when the man was in a haze and asked, "Where’s your head?"  
  
"On my pillow. I didn’t sleep." Will said.  
  
"Got just the thing to wake you up." Jack said  as he, Clarice and Will enter the motel room to find Brian taking photographs of the crime scene.  
  
Two bodies, one male, one female, kneel on either side of the bed. The flesh of their backs has been cut down the middle, each side peeled back in a large flap, which rise outstretched like wings. Hooks in the skin tied to hooks in the ceiling and walls with fishing line spread the “wings.” Wrists are bound in front of them also with fishing line, raised in mock prayer. Victims' heads loll on their necks.

Zeller photographs the dorsal wounds of the victims as Beverly navigates the fishing line to take samples from the crumpled bed sheets that were clearly slept in. Jimmy is dusting an open bottle of scotch and three glasses on a small table for fingerprints, one is still full.  
  
"Okay. I’m awake." Will said as he took in the scene before him.

"And I wish I was still asleep." Clarice said.  
  
"Hooks were bored into the ceiling. Fishing line was used to hold up the bodies and parts of bodies." Jack said.  
  
"Least we know he’s a fisherman." Beverly said.

"Because that makes this so much better." Clarice quipped. "Poor Nemo..."  
  
"And or a Viking." Jimmy said trying not to smile at what Clarice said.  
  
"Vikings do this?" Brian asked.  
  
"Vikings do a lot of things. Discovered America 500 years before Columbus. Well, discovered Canada." Jimmy explained.

"Canada is America." Beverly said.  
  
"Vikings would execute Christians by breaking their ribs and bending them back so they looked like wings. Then they’d rip out their lungs. Called it a Blood Eagle." Jimmy explained.

"Thanks, Jimmy, for that." Clarice mumbled. "You are hereby banished from watching the History channel or wherever you got that so wonderful intel from."

Jimmy smiled at her sheepishly.  
  
"Pagans mocking the God Fearing." Will said.  
  
"Who’s mocking who here?" Jack asked as Clarice crept around the bodies, keeping while away from them as she did so.  
  
"He’s not mocking them. He’s transforming them." Will explained  
  
"I don’t know if it was a good night’s sleep, but he slept here. Hair on the pillow and the sheets are still damp. He’s a sweater." Beverly said.

Clarice grimaced at that, yick he actually slept in here after he did this to them? Disgusting.  
  
"Madness slept here last night." Will said.

Beverly indicates the small pool of vomit on the edge of the bed washing onto the night stand, "He threw up on the night stand."

Clarice made a face as she moved away from the nightstand.  
  
"Couldn’t stomach what he did? Flop sweat and nervous indigestion." Jack said.  
  
"Not nervous. Righteous. Thinks he’s elevating them somehow, making them better than how he saw them. I need a plastic sheet to cover the bed." Will said and ignored the look of pure horror on Clarice's face as she realized what he wanted to do.  
  
A rubber evidence sheet covers the entire bed, creating a barrier to evidence tampering. Will lays back on the bed, glancing down at the man-made monsters at his feet. Clarice is standing nearby, her eyes were closed as her breathing slowly became even.

Will Graham takes a breath, exhales. "This is not who you are. You are more now than what you were." 

A Pendulum swings in the darkness of Will’s and Clarice's minds.

The pendulum arcs through frame, wiping away in its wake the gush of blood stains on the bed. The pendulum swings again, wiping away the fishing wire and the hooks. The pendulum arcs revealing the male and female victims are now pre-skinning, kneeling in supplication by the bed.  
  
He watched with restrained awe as he softly narrated, "This is my gift to you." The Male and Female Victims’ backs simultaneously split and open, unfolding into outstretched wings in one graceful, elegant, horrifying movement. Backlit fishing lines extend from the wings like Biblical rays of light. "I allow you to be Angels. Now I lay me down to sleep."

Will closing his eyes while Clarice opened hers...

**B.A.U. - MORGUE**

At this vantage point the winged-corpses of Mr. and Mrs. Anderson appear to hover over stainless steel slabs.  
  
"Death makes angels of us all..." Beverly said.  
  
Beverly runs a small plastic tool along the flap of skin hanging off the exposed muscle of Mrs. Anderson’s back. Brian carefully removes the fish hooks one by one, dropping them into a pan.  
  
"...and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens’ claws." Beverly finished.  
  
"Robert Frost." Brian said.  
  
"Jim Morrison." Will corrected.

Clarice was standing behind him with her arms crossed over her chest as she watched Jimmy work.

"Even a drunk with a flair for the dramatic can convince himself he’s God. Or the Lizard King." Beverly said.  
  
"God makes angels. Jesus was fond of Fisherman. Are we going hard core Judeo-Christian upsetting or just upsetting in general." Jimmy said.  
  
"This is a very specific upsetting." Will said.  
  
"Increase of serotonin in the wounds is much higher than the free histamines so she lived for about 15 minutes after she was skinned." Brian said.

Jimmy entered from his work bay, having just identified the powder, "The powder residue on the neck of the soda bottle was Vecuronium. Scotch’n soda’n a paralytic agent."  
  
"Had them kneeling in supplication at the feet of G dash D." Brian said.  
  
"Supplication is the most common form of prayer. Gimme-gimme-gimme." Jimmy said.  
  
"They weren’t praying to him. They were praying for him. He’s afraid." Will corrected.  
  
"What is somebody who could do something like this afraid of?" Beverly asked confused.

Several answers fly through Will’s mind, but the clearest is: "He’s dying." He looked at Beverly. "What’s in his vomit?"

Beverly reads off Toxicology report, "Dexamethasone...kepra..."  
  
"He was epileptic. Radiation?" Brian interrupted.  
  
"Gamma four." Beverly said,  
  
"Steroids for inflammation. Anticonvulsants for seizures. Radiation from chemotherapy." Brian said. "Our guy has a brain tumor."  
  
"He’s afraid of dying in his sleep. He makes Angels to watch over him." Will said.

Clarice silently mused that everyone was scared of dying, either in their sleep or not but they don't make Angels to watch over them.

 

 **HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT**  

Hannibal stood over Will on the second floor, scanning the shelves for a particular book on Neurology. He pulls it. It was just Will, Clarice had returned home because she was very tired and needed her sleep.  
  
"There’s no one and only spiritual center of the brain. Any idea of God comes from many areas of the mind working together in unison." Hannibal said as he climbed down the ladder then tosses the book to Will.

Will asked, perusing the book, "Maybe I’m wrong. How do you profile someone who has an anomaly in their head changing the way they think?"  
  
"A tumor can definitely affect brain function, even causing vivid hallucinations. However, what appears to be driving your Angel Maker to create heaven on Earth is a simple issue of mortality." Hannibal said.  
  
"Can’t beat God, become him." Will said.  
  
"You said he was afraid." Hannibal said.  
  
"He feels abandoned." Will explained.  
  
"Ever feel abandoned, Will?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Abandonment requires expectation." Will replied.  
  
"What were your expectations of Jack Crawford and the F.B.I.?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Jack hasn’t abandoned me." Will answered.  
  
"Not in any discernible way. Perhaps in the way Gods abandon their creations." Hannibal said.  
  
"Well, this should be interesting." Will said. "Please proceed, Doctor."

"Jack gave you his word he would protect your head space. Yet he leaves you to your mental devices." Hannibal said.  
  
Will looked at him and asked, "Are you trying to alienate me from Jack Crawford?"  
  
"I’m trying to help you understand this Angel Maker you seek." Hannibal corrected.  
  
"Help me understand how to catch him." Will said.  
  
"If he were a classic paranoid schizophrenic, you might be able to influence him to become visible." Hannibal explained.  
  
"Scare him out into the daylight." Will said.  
  
"Might even get him to hurt himself if he hasn’t already." Hannibal said.  
  
"If he were self-destructive, he wouldn’t be so careful." Will said.  
  
"Unless he’s being careful about his self-destruction. He’s making angels to pray over him when he sleeps." Hannibal said. "Who prays over us when we sleep?"

Will doesn't knowing the answer to that question...

 

**Clarice's House**

She tossed her keys onto her nightstand as she takes off her jacket and hanged it then she walked to the bathroom where she took her night shower, she walked out buttoning up her sleep shirt aka a white man's dress shirt. Salem was sleeping on top of her headboard, purring in his sleep. Clarice stroked her cat before she climbed underneath the covers and hugged her pillow as she closed her eyes.

She was asleep as soon as she closed her eyes...

Clarice slipped the short nightgown off over her head and straddled the man’s waist. He placed a soft kiss on the corners of her lips than his lips moved along her jaw to her ear and his teeth sank into her earlobe, causing Clarice to shiver. Then he picked her up and placed her onto the bed next to him and kissed his way down her throat to her breasts.

A hot mouth closed over her left nipple and suckled strongly. Rough fingertips dragged up and down the center of her body. Smoothing over her ribcage and the sensitive bend in her waist. A light stroking over the pulse pounding in the column of her neck. A work-roughened palm traced her contours, from the arms displayed above her head, down her tensed shoulders. Over the soft curve of her belly, across her hips and the roundness of her thighs. Past her quaking knees, down her calves to her ankles, ending at her ticklish feet. Those maddeningly thorough hands reversed the process with just as much sensual deliberation. Clarice began to shake with pure unadulterated need. Then those eager hands palmed her breasts, bringing both nipples together to suck and lick and taste. Teeth nipped the tender tips, causing a pain-filled sound to escape from her throat. The sting was soothed by pursed lips blowing a stream of cool air, followed by a warm, wet tongue lapping and curling around the abused flesh.

Strong hands gripped her ankles and jerked her body down until her ass nearly hung off the end of the bed. Then a cool, wet tongue licked straight up the center of her pussy. Her hips shot off the bed. A warning growl sounded from below. Then the mouth on her sex began a full-out assault. That clever tongue wiggled deep inside her dripping cunt, licking her from the inside out. Then it zigzagged up to flick little whips of hot velvet across her distended clit. Her blood pulsed and gathered in that little nub, the orgasm danced close to the surface and then the possibility vanished as the teasing mouth trailed away. Damn. She wanted to demand it return, but she wisely kept her lips pressed together. Soft kisses circled her mound from the line of her pubic hair, to the crease of her thighs, back down to her vaginal opening. The circle of kisses became progressively smaller. Tighter. Wetter. Clarice tried not to writhe, or to grind her sex into that fleeting tongue. But when that hot, hungry mouth closed over her clit and her swollen pussy lips and began to suck them together, she flat-out screamed. Two thick fingers shot inside and stroked that magical spot as the soft suctioning grew stronger and sent her soaring over the edge of reason and into a climax so extreme she forgot to breathe. She nearly passed out from lack of oxygen to her sex-addled brain. Once the blood quit rushing in her ears and slowed to a dull throb between her legs, she slumped against the mattress, panting heavily.

His mouth covered hers; she tasted the musky tang of her own juices on his tongue.

Clarice tensed when she felt the head of his cock poised at her entrance. He was a big man and even though she couldn’t wait to feel him stuffing her pussy full, part of her was a little scared. As he worked his dick in slowly... Clarice woke up from her dream. She sat up and rubbed her thighs together, feeling the wetness between them.

With a sigh she flopped back onto her pillows, her dress shirt felt too hot after such a dream.

 _Damn it, it’s been a while since I had a dream like that_ , Clarice thought as she turned over onto her side and closed her eyes. Taking deep breathes she was able to calm her body down and bring it under control, though she was shocked about how her body reacted.

The man in her sexual dream was a familiar face: Hannibal Lecter.

**JACK CRAWFORD’S HOUSE**

Jack Crawford laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling. Bella entered and silently slipped under the covers. A moment, then he asked, "Do you wait until I shut off my light before you come to bed?"  
  
"Not intentionally. I’m working late, nothing personal." Bella said.  
  
"Can we have a conversation or should we go on pretending everything is alright." Jack said.  
  
"Everything is alright." Bella replied.  
  
"Then no conversation." Jack said frustrated.   
  
"I’m just overwhelmed at the moment." Bella said.  
  
"With?" Jack asked.  
  
"A lot going on with work, etcetera." Bella said.  
  
"I don’t like etcetera." Jack said.  
  
"Okay, then it’s work. I need to sort through some things. It’s outside your jurisdiction, Jack." Bella said.  
  
"I’m good at sorting through things. Very least, I can underwhelm you when you’re feeling overwhelmed." Jack said.  
  
"You’ve never been able to underwhelm me." Bella said.  
  
"There’s some confidential something you can’t share with me, that it?" Jack asked.  
  
"That’s exactly it." Bella said.  
  
"Is there anything I can offer you romantically, physically, spiritually that can help you?" Jack asked.  
  
"No." Bella said.

"So what I can do for you as your husband is to leave you alone and not ask you questions." Jack said.  
  
"You can ask me whatever you want." Bella said.  
  
"I won’t insult you by asking if there’s someone else." Jack said  
  
"Thank you." Bella said.  
  
"Whatever you’re sorting out, you’ll sort it out and we’ll go back to being us or is this us now?" Jack asked.  
  
"I don’t want this to be us." Bella said.  
  
"I love you, Bella." Jack said.

Bella said in middle-distance, "I love you, too."  
  
"When there is something I can do, you promise to tell me?" Jack asked.  
  
"I promise." Bella said.

He takes her hand in the dark, but she doesn’t look his way.

**ABANDONED BUILDING - NIGHT CLEVELAND, OHIO**

A moody evening, moonlight filtered through the hazy light pollution hanging above the city. Scattered all around the area are various tents and sleeping bags suggesting a shanty town populated with homeless.  
  
The back of a lone man walking through the shanty town, a sheen of sweat coating the nape of his neck  
  
He glanced at the various homeless, paying them very little attention. He looked upward, toward the sky, toward heaven, taking a deep breath of the night air and exhaling. There is a distant clopping sound of boots on pavement. A Security Guard is moving through the winding path that cuts through the tents.

As the security guard approached, the lone man tensed at what horror he sees.  
  
The flesh of the security guard’s face and hands is monstrously distorted, rippling trails of heat emanate from his body as his skin roils with flame. Demonic...hallucinogenic...  
  
The lone man’s head turned to follow the Security Guard (not demonic, not distorted, not flaming) as he approached.  
  
"I see what you are." The man said.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, we all know that Hannibal has a smell kink :P and yay, she finally told him about the ranch! After putting it off for such a long time! xD
> 
> Also Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling is a waaaay better Love Story than Twilight...admit it.

**Coquilles Part 3**

**ABANDONED BUILDING - EARLY MORNING**

He approached what appeared to be an altar on high. He is staring at a man-made angel made from a man. A corpse of a man has been mounted on scaffolding covered in plastic sheets creating a divine luminescence from behind. Lines of blood streaking the transparent plastic sheets serve as a corona of sorts emanating down from the angel wings.

Beneath the angel corpse, a crumpled, stained mattress. Will and Clarice are captivated as Jack approached. Brian, Beverly and Jimmy donned their gloves.  
  
"Why angels?" Jack asked.  
  
"It isn’t Biblical. His angels have wings. In sculpture and paintings, angels fly, but not in the Bible." Will answered.  
  
"He’s drawing from secular sources." Jack said.  
  
"His mind has turned against him and there’s no one there to help." Will said.

Brian carefully picked up a pair of severed testicles.  
  
"Are those? What are those?" Jimmy asked horrified.  
  
"Someone got an orchiectomy cheap." Brian quipped. 

Clarice grimaced at the sight, that was just so nasty on so many levels.

Beverly shined her flashlight at the security guard’S crotch.  
  
"Doesn’t look like the victim." Beverly said.  
  
"The Angel Maker?" Jimmy asked horrified.  
  
"He castrated himself?" Beverly asked shocked.  
  
"He’s not just making angels, he’s getting ready to become one." Will answered then he noticed their looks. "Angels don’t have genitalia."  
  
"Save me a place in hell." Jimmy muttered.

Yeah, Clarice is sooo happy that she's a woman and doesn't have to cut anything off in order to become an angel. Ouch, just ouch.  
  
"He was afraid of dying and now he’s getting used to the idea?" Jacked asked as he look at Will  
  
"He’s accepted it or he’s bargaining." Will replied.  
  
"Some bargaining chips." Brian quipped.

"Yeah, nothing like using your testicles and other people as your chips." Clarice muttered.  
  
"Does that mean he’s done making angels or just getting started." Jack said.  
  
"I don’t know." Will said.  
  
"He’s not just killing when he gets sleepy. How is he choosing them?" Jack asked.  
  
"I don’t know. Ask him." Will repeated starting to get agitated, he saw Clarice look over at him from the corner of his eyes.  
  
"I’m asking you." Jack said.  
  
"You’re the head of the Behavioral Science Unit, Jack. Why don’t you come up with your own answers if you don’t like mine." Will snapped.

A stillness washed over Zeller, Starling, Price and Katz with Will’s blatant disrespect. Jack locked Will with a cold stare, "I didn’t hear that."  
  
"No, you didn’t. I’m sorry." Will apologized guilt now.  
  
Embarrassed by his outburst, Will wondered back over to the angel to collect his thoughts. Jack watched him go, he doesn't stop Clarice from walking to her mentor. She silently stood next to him, not saying anything just comforting him...much like a Guardian Angel. 

**B.A.U. - MORGUE**

Will stood between the corpses of Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, as alone in the work bay as he is in his head. Clarice is sitting on a stool, she watched her mentor work as she too was in her head. Beverly entered and leaned on the morgue drawer, studying Will. Clarice acknowledged Beverly with a small wave and smile.  
  
"I’ve never seen anybody talk to Jack the way you talked to Jack." Beverly finally said.  
  
"I was out of line." Will said.  
  
"You were out of your mind. My ears rang like they did the first time I heard my mom say the f-word." Beverly quipped. "Are you okay? I know it’s a stupid thing to ask considering that none of us could possibly be okay doing what we do. But are you okay?" She discreetly looked at Clarice for answers but the other woman silently shook her head. Whatever it is that is bothering her mentor, his student had no clue.  
  
"Do I seem different?" Will asked as he looked at both women.

Clarice lifted her hand and moved it side to side a light, a silent answer: she thought he was acting slightly different.  
  
"You’re a little different. You’ve always been a little different. Brilliant strategy. No one knows when there’s something up with you." Beverly said.  
  
"How would I know if there was something up with you?" Will asked Beverly, he knew how Clarice acted when she was bothered. She tended to be withdrawn and silent, deep in her thoughts.  
  
"You wouldn’t. But I would tell you if you asked me. Return the favor?" Beverly asked.

Clarice leaned forward as she waited for her mentor to answer but before Will can answer the question.  
  
"Would the real Mr. and Mrs. Anderson please stand up." Jimmy's voice said. Will looked up as Jimmy entered with a file, the moment with Beverly is momentarily shattered. Clarice clicked her tongue in annoyance as she leaned back in her stool and crossed her arms over her chest. "No? Meet Roger & Marilyn Brunner. May recognize them from such lists as Most Wanted. He likes to rape and murder. She likes to watch." Jimmy handed the file to Will, who quickly looked it over. "We have a DNA match. They falsified the motel registry and were driving a stolen car, so it took a second to identify them."   
  
"I wonder how long it took Angel Maker to identify them. He didn’t choose them randomly." Will said as he held the report to Clarice who took it, looking it over as she chewed her lower lip. Something she did when she was either worried or deep in thought.

Jimmy handed Beverly another report, "He knows something about them. The murdered Security Guard wasn’t actually a Security Guard, which I’d say means he was up to no good."

"Now I am curious to know how he knows whose naughty or nice." Clarice said.  
  
"Could Angel Maker be a vigilante?" Beverly asked.  
  
"Vigilantes are pragmatic, purposeful. They don’t lay down and go to sleep under their crimes. In his mind, he’s doing God’s work." Will said.  
  
"That spells vigilante." Beverly said.  
  
"Playing God has advantages. One of them is never having to be alone." Will said.  
  
"So he makes Angels out of demons." Beverly said.  
  
"How does he know they’re demons?" Jimmy asked.  
  
"He doesn’t have to know. All he has to do is believe." Will answered.  
  
**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE**

Bella takes a deep breath, sitting opposite Hannibal. He allowed her to gather her thoughts, then he asked, "Has Jack begun to suspect? He is a behavioral specialist. He must know you’re keeping something from him."  
  
"Oh, he knows. He asked me if I was having an affair by reassuring me he didn’t have to ask." Bella answered.  
  
"I doubt he believes you’re unfaithful." Hannibal said.  
  
"Why do you doubt that?" Bella asked.  
  
"It’s clear you love your husband." Hannibal answered smoothly.

That hits Bella harder than Hannibal thought. She deflected by saying, "Women who love their husbands still find reasons to cheat on them."  
  
"Not you. Yet you seem more betrayed by Jack than your own body." Hannibal said.  
  
"I don’t feel betrayed by Jack. And there’s no point being mad at cancer for being cancer." Bella said.  
  
"Sure there is." Hannibal said.  
  
"Cancer isn’t cruel. A tiny cell wanders off from my liver and gets lost. It finds its way into my lungs where it’s just trying to do its job and grow a liver." Bella said.  
  
"What it’s growing and where it’s growing it will likely kill you." Hannibal said. If Clarice ever gets ill, he's be able to smell it there'd be no way she'd be able to keep it from him like Bella was doing with Jack.  
  
"Not likely. It will kill me. And no amount of blueberries and antioxidants can change that now." Bella said.  
  
"But you hold Jack accountable for his inability to cure cancer." Hannibal said then he noticed her look. "Should I have said his inability to save you? That be more accurate?"  
  
"I am slowly shrinking while that tiny thing keeps growing larger every day, but I feel... fine." Bella answered.  
  
"You’ll feel fine up until the precise moment you don’t." Hannibal said.

No, Clarice would never be able to keep anything from him.

"It’s really a very dull story, isn’t it? The ending is always the same and that same is that it ends." Bella said.  
  
"So you withdraw from your relationship with the man who strolled along the quays of Livorno, Italy and called you Bella." Hannibal replied smoothly.  
  
"The cancer is already withdrawing me from our relationship. And everything else. Maybe it’ll be easier for Jack this way." Bella said.  
  
"Why? He’s losing you twice." Hannibal asked.  
  
"You said you could smell the cancer. What did it smell like?" Bella asked him curious.

Hannibal considered his answers, then he choose the most honest, "Death."

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - BEDROOM**

Will laid in bed, staring at the ceiling as the alarm clock blinked from 11:31 PM to 3:45 AM. Will doesn’t close his eyes. Finally, his eyelids slowly close under their own weight. A distant, muffled barking slowly roused him to consciousness and Will opened his eyes. Will stood on the roof in his underwear in the early morning. His dogs barking at him through the open window he apparently crawled through.

Will’s growing concern for his new “condition” and that Clarice would never learn about it...

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - EVENING**

Several tablets are shaken into the palm of Will’s hand. Clarice had given him the bottle before he walked into the doctor's office, she was waiting for her turn out in the waiting room reading one of her many serial killer books. Will takes three aspirin tablets from his palm and slings them back, chasing with a glass of water. Hannibal observed, "It’s hard to lie still and fear going to sleep when it’s there to think about. You listen to your breathing in the dark and the tiny clicks of your blinking eyes."

Will paced, avoiding the patient hot seat, "I dream more now than I used to."  
  
"Your dreams were the one place you could be physically safe relinquishing control. Not anymore." Hannibal said as he watched Will pace.  
  
"I thought about zipping myself into a sleeping bag before I go to sleep, but it sounds too much like a poor man’s straight jacket." Will said as the statue of the black stag near the Patient EXIT drew Will’s attention. He walked toward it.  
  
"Have you determined how this Angel Maker is choosing his victims?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"He doesn’t see people how everyone else sees them. He can tell if you’re naughty or nice. Or he thinks he can." Will answered.  
  
"God has given this Angel Maker insight into the souls of man?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"God didn’t give him insight. Gave him a tumor. He’s just a man whose brain is playing tricks on him." Will said.  
  
"You’re not unlike this killer." Hannibal said smoothly.  
  
"My brain is playing tricks on me?" Will asked.  
  
"You want to feel such sweet and easy peace. The Angel Maker wants that same peace. He hopes to feel his way cautiously inside it and find it is endless all around him." Hannibal said.  
  
"He’s going to be disappointed." Will said.  
  
"You accept the impossibility of such a feeling. Whereas the Angel Maker is still chasing it." Hannibal said as he crossed to study him as he studies the stag. "If he got close to it, that’s where he would look for it again."  
  
"I’ve been trying to reconstruct his thinking, find his patterns." Will said.  
  
"Instead you find yourself in a behavior pattern you can’t break. You realize you have a choice." Hannibal said.  
  
"What is it?" Will asked.  
  
"Angel Maker will be destroyed by what’s happening inside his head. You don’t have to be." Hannibal answered.  
  
Hannibal stands behind Will, his nostrils flare as he caught a scent wafting up from the back of Will's neck.  
  
"Did you just smell me?" Will asked shocked.  
  
"Difficult to avoid. I really must introduce you to a finer after shave. That smells like something with a ship on the bottle." Hannibal smoothly answered, eager to get to Clarice now.  
  
"I keep getting it for Christmas." Will said.  
  
"Have your headaches gotten any worse lately? More frequent?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Yes, actually." Will answered.  
  
"I’d change the after shave." Hannibal said.

Hannibal realizing there is more to Will’s problems than he knows but Dr. Lecter’s nose knows...

~~~

Clarice stepped into the office, passed Hannibal and moved to stand next to a chair but she doesn't sit down. In fact she seemed uncomfortable around him, almost shy. Hannibal was curious about why she was acting like that with him.

"What's wrong, Clarice?" Hannibal asked.

She jolted as if surprised before she looked at him, "Nothing, Doctor Lecter." 

Hannibal eyed her as she lied to him again before he doesn't try to pry it out of her, instead he moved towards her slowly and said, "You promised to tell me about your time on the ranch, Clarice." He slightly smiled when he saw her wince. "After your father's murder, you were orphaned. You were ten years old. You went to live with cousins, on a sheep and horse ranch in Montana. And...?"

"And...one morning I just...ran away..." Clarice said as she turned from him.

He moved closer to her but Clarice didn't notice because she was turned away from him, too deep in her memories, "Not 'just' Clarice. What set you off? You started what time?"

"Early. Still dark." Clarice answered softly.

"Then something woke you. What? Did you dream...? What was it?" Hannibal prompt.

**_The 10-year old Clarice sits up abruptly in her bed, frightened. She is in a Montana ranch house; it almost dawn. Strange, fearful shadows on her ceiling and walls... a window, partly fogged by the cold; eerie brightness outside._ **

"I heard a strange sound..." Clarice replied.

"What was it?" Hannibal asked gently.

**_The child raised up from her bed, she crossed to the window in her nightgown, rubbed the glass._ **

"I didn't know. I went to look..." Clarice whispered.

**_Shadowy men, ranch hands, are moving in and out of a nearby barn, carrying mysterious bundles. The mens' breath is steaming... A refrigerated truck idles nearby, its engine adding more steam. A strange, almost surrealistic scene..._ **

"Screaming! Some kind of...screaming. Like a child's voice..." Clarice said obviously distressed.

**_The little girl is terrified; she covered her ears._ **

"What did you do?" Hannibal asked watching her closely, he could tell that she was reliving that moment and it was only his voice that kept her from falling even further into her memories.

"Got dressed without turning on the light. I went downstairs... outside..." Clarice answered.

**_The little girl in her winter coat, slips noiselessly towards the open barn door. She ducks into the shadows to avoid a ranch hand, who passes her with a squirming bundle of some kind. He goes into the barn, and she edges after him reluctantly._ **

"I crept up to the barn... I was so scared to look inside - but I had to..." Clarice said.

**_The open doorway looms closer... Bright lights inside, straw bales, the edges of stalls, then moving figures..._ **

"And what did you see, Clarice?" Hannibal prompt her gently.

**_A squirming lamb is held down on a table by two ranch hands._ **

Clarice whispered, "Lambs. The lambs were screaming..."

**_A third cowboy stretches out the lamb's neck, raises a bloody knife. Just as he's about to slice its throat -_ **

An adult Clarice staring into the distance, shaken, still trembling from the child's shock. Hannibal was standing behind her, close but not too close, studying her intently.

"They were slaughtering the spring lambs?" Hannibal asked.

"Yes...! They were screaming." Clarice wrapped her arms around herself, as if she was trying to keep herself from breaking.

"So you ran away..." Hannibal murmured as he gently, softly placed a hand on her bicep. She doesn't react to the touch, she still faced away from him.

Clarice heaved a shaky sigh and whispered, "No. First I tried to free them... I opened the gate of their pen...but they wouldn't run. They just stood there, confused. They wouldn't run..."

"But you could. You did." Hannibal said.

Clarice nodded her head and said, "I took one lamb. And I ran away, as fast as I could..."

**_A vast Montana plain, and crossing this, a tiny figure, the little Clarice, holding a lamb in her arms._ **

"Where were you going?" Hannibal asked gently as he took a step closer to her, almost touching her back with his front.

"I don't know. I had no food or water. It was very cold. I thought - if I can even save just one... but he got so heavy. So heavy..." Clarice whispered.

**_The tiny figure stops, and after a few moments sinks to the ground, hunched over in despair._ **

"I didn't get more than a few miles before the sheriff's car found me. The rancher was so angry he sent me to live at the Lutheran orphanage in Bozeman. I never saw the ranch again..." Clarice murmured.

"But what became of your lamb?" Hannibal asked but there was no response from the woman. "Clarice...?"

Clarice turned and brushed against his body, staring into his eyes. She shook her head, unwilling or unable to say more.

"You still wake up sometimes, don't you? Wake up in the dark, with the lambs screaming?" Hannibal asked her.

"Yes..." Clarice answered softly.

Hannibal paused; then, oddly at peace he said, "Thank you, Clarice."

She stared at him silently before she hesitantly smiled at him, "You're welcome, Doctor Lecter...and thank you."

"You're very welcome, Clarice." Hannibal said smiling at the woman.

He watched her as she seemed to realize something, her blue eyes widen and a becoming blush started to spread up from her chest to her neck then she spun away from him to stare at a painting.

He stood closely behind her, his nostrils flare as he caught a scent wafting up from the back of Clarice's neck. It was of Evyan skin cream and L’Air du Temps, just like the day where he had first met her in that coffee shop.

"Did you just smell me?" Clarice asked shocked as she turned to face him.

"Difficult to avoid." Hannibal said smoothly. "But you do smell nice. That smell suits you."

Clarice stared to him silently before she laughed and smiled, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Hannibal said.

They both shared a smile, Clarice seemed to be more relaxed and comfortable around him. Hannibal took it as a sign that she was starting to open up to him, which means that he would be able to mold her easily in his vision.

 **JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE**  
  
Driver's license on a data pad. It’s a truck driving permit for Elliot Budish. Brian slide the Data Pad across the desk to Jack, who gives it a quick once over.  
  
"Elliot Budish. 35-year-old truck driver. Got a fishing license, too. Match came from the national cancer data base. Married, two children. Family hasn’t seen him in 4 months. He was diagnosed 5 months ago." Brian said.  
  
"Meet the Angel Maker." Jack said.

**B.A.U. - INTERROGATION ROOM**

Jack Crawford, Clarice Starling and Will Graham sit opposite Emma Budish (30s), a slightly anxious woman unsure why she is here.  
  
"Has he contacted you since he left?" Jack asked her  
  
"I left him. And no, he hasn’t." Emma replied.  
  
"Why did you leave?" Jack asked her.  
  
"Because of his cancer. Makes me sound like a horrible wife." Emma answered.  
  
"Sure you had your reasons." Jack said.  
  
"I took a leave from work to be with him. I wanted to be there for him. But what he wanted was to be alone." Emma replied. As she speaks, Jack who is coming to the unfortunate realization he and Emma have something in common. "He kept pulling away and pulling away. He made it clear he didn’t want me there. Then it wasn’t clear. Then it didn’t matter why he was acting the way he was."

Will watched as Jack poured himself a glass of water and drinks, mind spinning. Will realized he has to pick up the baton of the interrogation as Jack is clearly suddenly distracted.  
  
"It was weird for the kids. What kind of mother exposes her children to someone who’s losing their mind." Emma said.  
  
"Was he ever violent, Mrs. Budish?" Will asked.

Her hesitation suggests more than a yes or no answer.  
  
"He was angry. Never hit me or the boys. I thought when he got weak enough, when the cancer got worse, it wouldn’t be confusing for them. They could just see him as a sick man, and not someone so terrified." Emma answered finally.  
  
"Did your husband’s faith falter after he was told about the cancer." Will said.  
  
"Eric wasn’t ever religious. Is he doing something religious?" Emma asked.  
  
"He may believe he is." Will answered her.  
  
Jack finally said, "Your husband’s dying, Mrs. Budish. Soon. We want to find him before he hurts himself or anyone else." The words coming out of Jack’s mouth have a larger import than they did only moments ago.  
  
"He died once before. Suffocated in a fire when he was a little boy. Fireman who resuscitated him said he must’ve had a guardian angel." Emma said.  
  
"Where did this happen?: Will asked her.  
  
"A farm where he grew up." Emma replied.

**BARN**

Will Graham and Jack Crawford stomp through the dead grass as they approach. Two local police cars and their police officers wait in the background. Will, Clarice and Jack through a rolling slatted wood door revealing another angel of death hanging in the rafters, illuminated by shafts of light.

A stunned moment as Will, Clarice and Jack take in the horrific image. Jack heaved an annoyed sigh at another life lost.  
  
"This will be the last one." Will said.

Jack’s flashlight beam flickered across the Angel’s face, it’s the same face on the Driver’s License seen earlier.  
  
"It’s Budish?" Jack asked him.  
  
"He made himself into an angel." Will said.

Dripping blood from the flesh of his wings draws Will closer. Jack crosses to the barn door and shouts to the local police officers waiting in the distant field.  
  
"Get the Coroner down here." Jack shouted.

Will watched Elliot Budish’s angelic form from a safe distance. Clarice had her hands in her pocket as she stared up up Budish.  
  
"It wasn’t God, wasn’t man, it was his choice to die." Will said.  
  
"His choice?" Jack asked him, looking at him.  
  
"As much as he could make it." Will said.  
  
"You feeling a shortage of choices?" Jack asked.  
  
"I don’t know how much longer I can be all that useful to you, Jack." Will said.  
  
"Really? You caught three. The last three we had, you caught." Jack said.  
  
"I didn’t catch this one. Elliot Budish surrendered." Will said.

Frustrated, Jack turns to walk out of the barn, "I’m used to not getting information from my wife. I don’t need to not get information from you, too."

But Will’s confession stops Jack on the threshold, "It’s getting harder and harder to make myself look."

Clarice looked at him when he said that but she stayed silent.  
  
"No one is asking you to look alone." Jack said.  
  
"But I am looking alone. And you know what looking at this does." Will said.  
  
"I know what happens when you don’t look. So do you." Jack said.  
  
"I can make myself look but the thinking is shutting down." Will said.  
  
"What is it about this one?" Jack asked.  
  
"It’s not this one. It’s all of them. It’s the next one. It’s the one I know is coming after that." Will said.  
  
"I don’t think you want to go back to your lecture hall and read about the next one on TattleCrime.com." Jack said.  
  
"No, I don’t. But that may be what I have to do. This is bad for me." Will said.  
  
"I’m not the pope, I’m not going to tell you what you ought to do..." Jack said.  
  
"Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re going to do." Will said.  
  
"You go back to your classroom and there’s more killing that you could have prevented, it will sour that classroom forever." Jack said.  
  
"Maybe. Then maybe I find a job as a diesel mechanic in a boatyard." Will said.

Jack Crawford studied Will without saying anything, then abruptly turned and walked out of the barn, leaving Will alone.  
  
"If you want to quit, quit." Jack snapped.

Will stood there a moment, stung and reeling from the confrontation, debating on how to proceed. Clarice frowned a little but remained where she's at, her eyes were on Will. Will turned to see that Elliot Budish is no longer hanging from the rafters, but is now within reach.  
  
Will turned to see his attacker, the flesh of his face and hands is monstrously distorted, rippling trails of heat emanate from his body as his skin roils with flame. Demonic...hallucinogenic...  
  
Weak from the loss of blood from his self-inflicted wounds, delirious from his tumor, Elliot Budish looked upon Will (not demonic, not distorted, not flaming) and simply stated: "I see what you are."

He stumbled forward, collapsing in apparent supplication on the floor. Will isn’t afraid, his hand calmly goes to his gun as he slowly stepped out of reach.  
  
"What do you see?" Will asked.  
  
"Inside. I can bring it out of you." Elliot said.

Will raised his gun, training it on Budish but not firing, even as Budish advanced. Will continued to back away.  
  
"Not all the way out." Will replied.

Jack is silhouetted in the doorway.  
  
"I will give you the majesty of your Becoming." Elliot said.  
  
Elliot Budish can’t raise the knife to swipe, instead he crumpled in apparent supplication on the manger floor, his hands in his lap, somewhat prayer-like. He goes still. Will, Clarice and Jack regard for the fallen angel...

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - PRIVATE EXIT**

Hannibal opened the door to usher Bella out. They are both surprised to see Jack Crawford waiting for them.  
  
"Agent Crawford." Hannibal said.  
  
"Hello, Jack." Bella said.  
  
"Doctor, you mind waiting in the waiting room so my wife and I can borrow your office for a moment?" Jack asked.  
  
"Not at all." Hannibal said as he walked by and took a seat in his waiting room.

Jack closes the door. Bella stands, her coat on, holding her purse, ready to leave. Jack blinks, searches the room for his word.  
  
"Just dropping by on official business... or did you follow me?" Bella asked.  
  
"I called your office. They said you were at an appointment." Jack said. "Thought you might be here."

Bella quickly puts the pieces together, realizing, "You know?" Then off his nod. "I knew you’d find out."  
  
"When did you find out?" Jack asked.  
  
"Twelve weeks ago. Lung cancer." Bella said.  
  
"You don’t smoke." Jack said.  
  
"The irony." Bella said.  
  
"Treatable?" Jack asked.  
  
"It’s Stage 4. And we know there’s no Stage 5, don’t we?" Bella asked.  
  
"When were you going to tell me?" Jack asked.  
  
"Far enough in the future that I’m really not prepared to have this conversation right now." Bella said.  
  
"We’re having it. Were you going to wait until you started chemotherapy and couldn’t hide it anymore." Jack said.  
  
"Don’t know if I want chemotherapy." Bella replied.  
  
"Do I have a say in this?" Jack asked.  
  
"No, you do not." Bella said.

Jack wishes he didn’t respect that choice, but he does. "Do you want to be alone?" Jack asked. The bluntness of his question momentarily silences Bella. "I don’t want you to answer that. I just want you to think about your answer. Because I don’t want you to be alone. Now or ever."  
  
"We’ll beat this together?" Bella asked.

Jack shakes his head “no” and said, "This is your fight. But I’m in your corner and I’m not going anywhere."

Her smile is soft but forced, "I appreciate that, Jack. But I’m not comforted by it. I know that’s what you need. To comfort me. But I can’t give you what you need."

"Don’t worry about what I need." Jack said. "Why wouldn’t you tell me?"

She slowly circled her answer finally she said, "Thought if I kept it to myself our lives wouldn’t change. I didn’t count on changing as much as I did."

Jack taking that in...

**B.A.U. - HALLWAY**

Will walked down the hall, navigating the corridors of the hallway of the B.A.U. Will continued to walk with purpose up to Jack Crawford’s closed door, considered, then knocked.  
  
"Come in." Jack said.  
  
Jack sat behind his desk, cupping his forehead in his hands as Will Graham entered and quietly took a seat.  
  
What do you want, Will?" Jack asked.  
  
"I’m going to sit here until you’re ready to talk. You don’t have to say a word until you’re ready, but I’m not leaving until you do." Will simply said.

A long, uncomfortable, anguish-filled moment. Jack didn't have to ask where Clarice was, he knew that she was most likely at home probably been sent there by Will himself because she would have nagged Jack for an answer.

**Clarice's House**

Clarice was reading her book on her couch with her legs propped on her ottoman, drinking a bottle of water before she flipped the page to the next. Salem was sleeping on her lap, purring softly content. She looked up when she heard her phone ringing and she picked it up, answering it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Clarice."

She jolted in her seat as she turned a wonderfully dark shade of red when she heard Hannibal's voice from the other end of the phone and it caused her to remember the dream that she had with the man.

"Doctor Lecter, what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if one day soon that you could come over to my place and have dinner with me?" Hannibal said smoothly.

Clarice almost choked on her tongue as the question, she patted her chest and drank some of her throat to help get rid of her coughing fit.

"Sorry about that, Doctor...you surprised me." Clarice said.

"It's quite alright, it's my fault for surprising you after all." Hannibal said with a chuckle. "Now about my question..."

Clarice smiled softly, "Yeah, I don't see the problem of having dinner with you."

"Are you a vegetarian now?" 

"Mmm, a little." Clarice said with a laugh.

"Alright, I'll see you sometime soon." Hannibal said.

"Good bye, Doctor Lecter."

"Good bye, Clarice and make sure you get some sleep." And with that, the good doctor hanged up.

Clarice lowered the phone and stared at it.

 _How can I sleep when you are starting to plague my dreams now?_   Clarice mused before she placed her book down and picked up Salem, carrying him to her bedroom.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarice's outfit, https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/16/df/09/16df09b921cfa67747ef15d295e6af79.jpg but the shirt is a dress shirt and she wears boots.
> 
> I heard the Miriam was supposed to be Clarice, or similar to her, you know the whole obsession thing that Hannibal has for Clarice? Yeah, it was supposed to be the same for Miriam. And when I found that out, I was like "Um, but he wouldn't have killed her and chopped off an arm...he was in love with Clarice." In the movie, Hannibal, he chopped off His. Own. Hand. to get free and not hers when she handcuffed him.

**Entrée Part 1**

**BALTIMORE STATE HOSPITAL FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE**

He's sweating profusely. Cheek pressed to the cold cement floor, he has blood on his lips. Meet Dr. Abel Gideon, pale, handsome, 40’s, unresponsive. A hospital security guard was observing Dr. Gideon through the bars of a heavy gauge maximum security cell door that separates them.  
  
"This is your final opportunity to comply. On your feet, Dr. Gideon. Or we will restrain you." The man said.

No response from Dr. Gideon. The Hospital Security Guard signals and a klaxon sounds. Seconds later, the cell door slide opens. The Hospital Security and two of his comrades rush into the cell. The Three Hospital Security Guards surround the crumpled Dr.Gideon and aggressively bark orders at him.  
  
"Turn over and lace your fingers behind your head." He ordered.

Dr. Gideon, however, remains unresponsive. As the second hospital security guard puts a knee to Quinn's back, the lead Hospital Security Guard kneels and checks for a pulse.  
  
"Get a gurney." He said.  
  
Two hospital security guards escort Dr. Gideon’s gurney down a long cement passageway.

He is lying on a gurney being wheeled down a long corridor, oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. His eyes loll and roll in a daze, ankles and wrists cuffed. Hanging lamps streak light in strobes across Gideon as he’s pushed under them.  
  
As they push the gurney towards a set of infirmary doors. A loud entry buzzer sounds. The heavy gauge prison doors open.  
  
Nurse Elizabeth Shell, 30's, cuts Dr. Gideon’s shirt open and begins to attach EKG tab electrodes to his bare chest.  
  
His eyes pop open. They are clear and focused. His fingers slowly reaching for a small but scabbed incision on his palm of his cuffed hand. His fingers dig into his flesh revealing the sharpened tine of a fork he had inserted beneath his skin. He quickly jams the tine into the cuffs keyhole and goes to work.  
  
As Nurse Shell prepares the EKG, she’s unaware that Dr.Gideon slowly rises from the gurney behind her. She hears his heart monitor flat-line then turns and before she can even shout, DR. Gideon descends on her, knocking her violently back.

~~~~~

An F.B.I. sedan approaches the grim Gothic pile of the asylum looming over the driveway. The F.B.I. sedan parked and out of it stepped Jack, Clarice and Will. Clarice stretched hugely and yawned, just as big.   
  
"Freddie Lounds ran an unconfirmed story that the Chesapeake Ripper may already be in custody." Jack said.  
  
"Uncomfirmed? Am I confirming? Fact-checking for Freddie Lounds?" Will asked.

"And if we are, can we rub it in her face?" Clarice quipped.  
  
"You’re fact-checking for me." Jack corrected looking at Clarice, sternly and the young woman simply shrugged her shoulders.

Will eyed the sign that readed “CRIMINALLY INSANE.” Clarice looked at it as well before she looked at her mentor

"I’m always a little nervous going into one of these places. Afraid they’ll never let me out again." Will said.  
  
"Don’t worry. I’m not going to leave you here." Jack said.  
  
"Not today." Will said.

"If he does, I'll bust you out." Clarice with a smirk.

~~~~~  
  
Dr. Frederick Chilton came around his desk to shake Will’s hand as Jack and Clarice looked on.  
  
"Doctor Bloom just called me about you, Mister Graham. Or should I call you Doctor Graham?" Doctor Chilton asked.  
  
"I’m not a doctor." Will corrected.  
  
"You’re not F.B.I. either. That’s a temporary identification." Chilton said.  
  
"Mr. Graham teaches at the academy." Jack said.

The doctor then noticed Clarice and bestowed on her with what he probably thought was a charming smile as he reached out a hand towards her, "And you are?"

"Clarice Starling, Professor Graham's student and Protege." Clarice said as she took his hand and shook it.

"It's so nice to met you, Ms. Starling." Chilton cooed not releasing her hand but when she somewhat roughly tugged her hand, he released her hand then he looked at Will who had been watching the interaction between the two. "A teacher. I was relieved to hear from Doctor Bloom, we’ve known each other for years. Take that chair."  
  
"Doctor Chilton, we need to see the crime scene while it’s still relatively undisturbed." Jack said.  
  
"For something so disturbing, I assure you it’s undisturbed. Medical personnel made sure Nurse Shell wasn’t alive and came right back out. The infirmary has been sealed off until you get there." Chilton said as he glanced at Clarice who ignored his look in favor of looking for aspirin for her mentor. Just in case he needed it again.

"Why was a nurse left alone with a prisoner in a high-security psychiatric hospital?" Will asked.  
  
"For the two years since he was brought here, Gideon behaved perfectly and gave every appearance of cooperating with attempts at therapy. As dictated by our present administrator, security around him was slightly relaxed." Chilton answered looking away from the young woman when it became obvious that she wasn't going to look at him at all or acknowledge his attempts of flirting with her.  
  
"Your present administrator?" Jack asked.  
  
"I imagine after an incident like this one, she won’t be holding that position much longer." Chilton said. "I can’t help feeling responsible myself for what happened. I had sessions with Gideon for years. He sat directly across from me and I had no idea what he was hiding. And now one of our staff is dead."

That struck a chord with Jack, who can relate, "Graham needs to see the crime scene in as much privacy as possible."  
  
"Dr. Bloom assured me that you would cooperate on procedure." Chilton said.  
  
"I will, but I need to be alone." Will said.  
  
"Ah, yes. That thing you do. You are quite the topic of conversation in psychiatric circles." Chilton said as he looked at Will which finally earned him a look from Clarice but probably not the one he had wanted.  
  
"Am I?" Will asked subtlety telling Clarice silently not to say anything.

"A unique cocktail of personality disorders and neuroses that makes you a highly skilled profiler." Chilton said.

Clarice and Will quickly and silently shared a look, looks like he didn't know about Clarice's ability...yet that is.  
  
"Graham isn’t here to be analyzed." Jack said.  
  
"Perhaps he should be." Chilton said. "We’re woefully short of material on your sort of thing, Mr. Graham. Would you mind talking with some of the staff...no, no, not this trip. Dr. Bloom was very severe with me on that point. We’re to leave you alone. Maybe a special visit?"  
  
"Thank you, Doctor Chilton. I’d like to see the crime scene now." Will said firmly.

Clarice was now glaring at Chilton as she gripped her bag tightly in silent anger.  
  
Chilton led Jack, Clarice and Will down the hall. Clarice was staying far away from Chilton as possible, if he said anything rude to her mentor she might just punch him in that smug face of his.  
  
"Gideon was restrained?" Jack asked.  
  
"Handcuffs. Concealed a fork tine under the flesh of his palm and used it to pick the lock." Chilton answered.  
  
"Where is he now?" Will asked.  
  
"In his cell." Chilton said. "You’ll note the removal of organs and abdominal mutilations are all consistent with the Chesapeake Ripper. As is the distinctive brutalization of the corpse."  
  
"Chesapeake Ripper’s still at large." Jack stated.  
  
"What I’m about to show you, I believe suggests otherwise." Chilton said.

"Dr. Chilton consulted on the case when we failed to catch the Ripper after his last series of murders." Jack said.  
  
"Next to a battle lost, the saddest thing is a battle won." Chilton said.  
  
"Meaning?" Jack asked.  
  
Jack, Clarice and Will follow Dr. Chilton into the room, Jack, Clarice and Will slow their approach, taking in the horror of what is waiting for them here. They see the body of Nurse Shelly. She’s impaled on the broken frames of several privacy curtains that have been fashioned into spears. They protrude from wounds over the entire canvas of her body. Additional shards of wood and metal prop her organs above her corpse, giving them the appearance of floating outside her body.  
  
"The reason you failed and kept failing to catch the Chesapeake Ripper is I already had him." Chilton said smugly.

Jack Crawford shoot Chilton a look and then glanced away as Clarice and Will taking in the horrible tableaux.

Once Will and Clarice were alone, the mentor looked at his protege who looked at him curiously.

"I want you to come with me, Clarice." Will said. "Use that ability of yours."

"...Will I return to myself?" Clarice asked.

"...Yes, I think you will be able to return safely." Will said.

The _without bringing anything back_ went unsaid but Clarice heard it as she nodded her head and closed her eyes.

~~~

_He is lying on a gurney being wheeled down a long corridor, oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. His eyes loll and roll in a daze. Overhead hanging lamps streak light in lazy strobes across Will as he’s pushed under them. Nurse Shell cuts Will's shirt from his chest and attaches EKG tab electrodes. As she turns away, Will's eyes open. His fingers find the sharpened tine beneath his skin. She hears the heart monitor flatline and turns. Will Graham knocks her violently, striking her in the throat with the palm of his hand before she can scream. The blow is startling and significant in its brutality. It crushes her throat, blocking her airway, and reducing her scream to a painful gurgling. She stumbles back against a medicine cabinet. Eyes wide with fear and pain. But we only see them briefly before Will forces his thumbs into her eye sockets. As her body slumps to the floor, Will stares at the blood on his hands._

_Out of the corner of his eye, Will spies Nurse Shell crawling blindly toward the door. Moving to a privacy curtain, Will strips the fabric from the frame and breaks it over his knee to fashion a spear. Crawling. Her hands reach out and find Will's shoes blocking her way. Will with the broken frame of the privacy curtain raised above his head. Will drives the spear violently down._

He stood in the horror of the crime scene, trying to shake the ugliness of what his imagination evoked. Clarice opened her eyes, panting heavily she had felt the pain and fear that Nurse Shelly had done through. It wasn't pleasant. Jack entered in the background giving Will a moment to let it wash away. Clarice rubbed her face with her hands, sighing heavily.  
  
"As far as we know, the Chesapeake Ripper hasn’t killed in over two years. When was Gideon admitted?" Will asked.  
  
"Almost two years ago." Jack said.

 _ **Jack three years younger with distinctive facial hair. Through the glass door, Jack, sitting behind his desk speaking on his phone, can see: Miriam Lass. She’s late 20s, striking, pretty, wearing an FBI trainee polo and khakis. She looks in curiously. Jack abruptly hangs up, waving Miriam Lass into his office.** _  
  
_**"Lass. Miriam. Come in." Jack said.** _

_**Miriam does as instructed, approaching Jack’s desk. He motions toward the chair in front of him.** _  
  
_**Morning, Agent Crawford." Miriam said as she does as instructed.** _

_**"Sorry to pull you out of class. There’s nothing wrong. I don’t want to make you nervous." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"I’m not nervous. Curious." Miriam said.** _  
  
_**"Your instructors tell me you’re in the top ten percent." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"Top five, sir." Miriam corrected smoothly.** _  
  
_**"You’ll have to stop correcting me if we’re going to get along." Jack said. "You wrote me a letter when you qualified for the academy."** _  
  
_**"I wasn’t sure you got it. You never replied." Miriam said.** _  
  
_**"I never do. Odds are against any trainee sticking with the program. Glad to see you’re still here." Jack said then off her look he added. "Sure I come off as a two-faced recruiting sergeant sonofabitch." Miriam blinks. That’s exactly what she was thinking. "You said in your letter you wanted to work for me in the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program."** _  
  
_**'Yes, sir." Miriam answered.** _  
  
_**"There may be an opportunity. I assume you’re familiar with the Chesapeake Ripper?" Jack asked her.** _  
  
_**Miriam nodded her head and said, "Yes."** _

_**"The Ripper is very hot right now. Did his last two victims in six days. There will be at least one more body, then nothing for months." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"They say he’s a true sociopath." Miriam said.** _  
  
_**"What do you say?" Jack asked her.** _  
  
_**"I say they don’t know what else to label him. He has some of the characteristics of what they call a sociopath. No remorse or guilt at all. He won’t have any of the other marks, he won’t be a drifter. He’ll have no history of trouble with the law. He’ll be hard to catch." Miriam answered.** _

_**Jack is impressed. He made the right call singling her out.** _  
  
_**"I want to assign you to the Chesapeake Ripper task force. You’ll work directly under me." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"I’m grateful for the opportunity, Agent Crawford, but I can’t help wondering... why me?" Miriam asked.** _  
  
_**"You have a forensic fellowship, six years law enforcement. You have a doctorate in criminology, you have a degree in psychology. And what I don’t have is enough warm bodies." He fixed her a hard stare. "Now I want your full attention."** _  
  
_**Miriam nodded her head and said, "Yes, sir." Her curiosity is piqued at a new career opportunity.** _

**_"I’ve been doing this a long time_ _and I’ve never seen one like this. This kind of psychopath is rare..." Jack said._**

Jack was sitting alone. A long, silent moment.  
  
**BALTIMORE STATE HOSPITAL FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE**  
  
Alana, Clarice and Will sat opposite of Dr. Chilton, across his massive desk serving as a moat. Although the pleasant conversation that is taking place primarily between Alana and Dr. Chilton, Dr. Chilton is clearly curious about Will Graham. Clarice is mostly silent as she stared at everything other than Chilton, making it obvious that she doesn't like him at all.  
  
"Volume of Abel Gideon’s mail is a nuisance. Sometimes I feel like his secretary rather than his keeper." Chilton said.  
  
"Any specific correspondences that stood out from the others?" Alana asked.  
  
"Most were researchers and PhD candidates requesting interviews. A gaggle of angry relatives or those sympathetic to them. Then scattered dozens of lonely hearts seeking his hand in marriage." Chilton said.

Clarice pinched the bridge of her nose at that, seriously? These women are either crazy or masochist to be in love with a crazy serial killer. She couldn't understand why any woman would love such a man.

She would _never_ fall in love with a serial killer.  
  
"He butchered his last wife and her family on Thanksgiving." Alana stated.

"There’s no accounting for taste or intelligence, is there?" Chilton said.

 _'Apparently not'_ , Clarice thought to herself.

"Murdering his wife was impulsive. The Chesapeake Ripper is always methodical, meticulous. Which is why he’s so hard to catch." Will said.  
  
"Was. So hard to catch." Chilton corrected.

Clarice spoke up then and said, "You sound sure about it but there are other killers haven't been caught...for example, Jack the Ripper. All we have on him is the reports of his victims and who they thought he was."

The doctor smiled at her and said, "He admitted to it."

Clarice doesn't say anything, she just stared at him before she looked away.

"Will you be conducting a joint interview?" Chilton asked as he looked at Alana and Will.  
  
"Separate. Compare and contrast." Alana answered.  
  
"I know you’re anxious to get on with it. You’ve talked to Gideon before. For some length of time." Chilton said.  
  
"I saw him mainly in court. Wrote an article about him for the Journal of Criminal Psychology." Alana said.  
  
"He’s very familiar with you. He’s given you a lot of thought." Chilton said.  
  
"You had some sessions with him?" Will asked her, looking at her.  
  
"Yes. Two. Couple years ago. When he was first institutionalized." Alana answered.  
  
"I’ve read your notes, of course. They were more or less helpful as I conducted my own interviews with Dr. Gideon over the years." Chilton said.  
  
"I’m glad I was helpful." Alana said.  
  
"More or less." Will muttered earning a small smile from Clarice.  
  
"I’ll go first." Alana said.

Chilton looked to Will, "It’ll give us a chance to chat."

"I’ll wait outside. I need some air." Will said smoothly.

Dr. Chilton’s grin going flaccid while Clarice's smile going wider.

The loud entry buzzer of the Maximum Security Gate blaring. The steel door of the maximum security section closed behind Alana Bloom. She hears the bolt slide home. Her footsteps echo. High to her right, surveillance cameras. On her left, cells. Some are padded, with narrow observation slits, others are normal, barred. Shadowy occupants inside. Alana approached Gideon's cell. A simple folding chair is positioned in front. Behind its barred front wall is a second barrier of stout nylon net. Sparse, bolted-down furniture inside. Dr. Gideon (banal, 50s) is sitting on his bunk, in white pajamas. He politely sits upright to greet Alana.  
  
"Dr. Gideon. I don’t know if you..." Alana started to say.  
  
"Lovely to see you again, Dr. Bloom." Gideon interrupted her.  
  
"You remembered." Alana said.  
  
"I’ve had a lot of psychiatrists visit me over the years. Hard not to forget one so attractive." Gideon said.  
  
"Thanks for your time, Dr. Gideon. I won’t waste it. Shall we begin?" Alana said ignoring his attempt to flatter her.  
  
"What’s this to be? I was caught red-handed. Literally. No mystery as to who done it. I did." Gideon said.

~~~~~~

Now it was Will's turn to talk to him, Clarice was standing behind him leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. Gideon had tried flattering her most likely something he had done with Alana as well but she had ignored him. She couldn't help but make note that when Hannibal flattered her, she reacted to it but when this man tried it, she ignored it.

Clarice didn't even want to think about the reason why.

"The mystery is whether you are who you say you are. Or not." Will said.  
  
"I never liked being called the Chesapeake Ripper. Maybe something a little more distinct. Any Ripper is going to pale in comparison to the infamous Jack of Whitechapel." Gideon said.

Clarice silently agreed with him on that but not on the part that he was the Chesapeake Ripper.

"Is that why you didn’t take credit for the Ripper murders before now?" Will asked.  
  
"I was just enjoying the goose chase from the box seats." Gideon said.  
  
"Two years of goose-chasing. You must be a very patient man." Will said.  
  
"Are you going to walk me through the Psychopathy Checklist? I’ve had my personality inventoried by the Minnesota Multiphasic." Gideon said then he looked at Clarice. "Though I wouldn't mind if your pretty companion walked me through it."

"No thank you, Doctor Gideon." Clarice rejected his attempt of flirting smoothly, and with years of practice.  
  
"Would you prefer a Rorschach test?" Will asked.  
  
"If you show me those pictures, might I suggest you put a blood pressure cuff on my genitals. Far more accurate gauge to my response." Gideon said.  
  
"Were you aroused by murdering the Night Nurse? Did you fantasize about killing her before you did?" Clarice asked him finally breaking her silence.  
  
"Sexually or preparatively?" Gideon asked with a smile, apparently happy that she was talking to him now.

She wasn't, he made her skin crawl but she needed to finish questioning him.

Clarice did an one shoulder shrug as she said, "Either."  
  
"Yes. To both. Are you going to ask me if I’m aroused right now." Gideon said.

"It would be inconsequential to this line of questioning, Dr. Gideon." Clarice said. "Were you sexually aroused when you murdered your wife?"  
  
"She stopped having that effect on me long before I killed her." Gideon answered.  
  
"What effect were you hoping to have by killing Elizabeth Shell?" Will asked then giving Clarice a break from talking to Doctor Gideon.  
  
"That the nurse’s name? The effect I was hoping for was her death." Gideon said. "Elevated to my art."  
  
"You ate a tube of rheumatoid arthritis ointment for your art." Will said.  
  
"Had to look ill. The capsaicin in the salve irritated my stomach lining so I would sweat profusely." Gideon said.  
  
"Brutalization of the body was done posthumously. The Chesapeake Ripper usually does that sort of thing during, not after." Will said.  
  
"I don’t need to convince you I’m the Chesapeake Ripper." Gideon said.  
  
"Seems that’s what you need to do. It’s certainly what someone needs." Will said as he studied the inscrutable Dr. Gideon...


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think in Clarice wouldn't want to eat any lamb meat at all because of her childhood, at least that's my head canon for her :P

**Entree Part 2**

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Hannibal opened the door of his office, leaving for the night, shrugging on his coat, shutting off the last of his lights to his darkened office, very much surprised to see Jack who sits quietly in the waiting room.  
  
"Agent Crawford." Hannibal said. "Do you have an appointment?"  
  
Hannibal ushered in Jack, he turned on a few lights to illuminate his work space and make it more hospitable.  
  
"May I take your coat?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I’m not staying. I was just..." Jack said trailed off.  
  
"In the neighborhood?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Something like that." Jack answered.

Hannibal studied Jack then he asked, "How’s Mrs. Crawford?"  
  
"That’s why I’m in the neighborhood. She tells me she’s fine. And she’ll tell me when she’s not." Jack said.  
  
"You expect me to tell you more." Hannibal said.

"Bella’s at a NATO summit, so I can’t talk to her. And I couldn’t talk to her even if she were here." Jack said.  
  
"About her condition?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"About her cancer. About her dying. She doesn’t want to talk about it." Jack said.  
  
"I’m prohibited from talking about it. Doctor patient confidentiality." Hannibal said.  
  
"You talk to me about Will Graham." Jack said.  
  
"Will Graham isn’t officially my patient. We have conversations." Hannibal replied.  
  
"What do you consider this?" Jack asked.  
  
"Desperate coping."  
  
"You don’t think I have a right to know what’s happening with my wife?"  
  
"You have every right to know what’s happening. But not from me." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’m not going to stand outside my marriage and watch this happen. If that’s what she wants, too bad. She married the wrong guy." Jack said.  
  
"I’ll offer this one insight: she thinks she married the right guy." Hannibal said.

A salve. Hannibal gestured for Jack to sit down.

"I look at her side of the bed and wonder if she’s going to die there or where she’ll die and I feel myself going uncomfortably numb." Jack said.  
  
"You’re not going numb. You’re dreading the loss of numbness." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’m dreading the loss of my wife...and thinking about other losses." Jack said.  
  
"What other losses are you dreading?" Hannibal asked. "You can’t save your wife. She won’t let you. Her cancer won’t let you. Who else couldn’t you save, Jack?"

The question hits Jack harder than he expected. "I’m not your patient, Dr. Lecter. I’ll keep my losses to myself." Jack said.

 _**All sound is dulled as if her ears were blocked, the ambient noise of her circulatory system provides an organic hum. She stares numbly, rattled at something horrible that she is staring at. A horribly murdered. His body has been laced to a work table in front of a peg board where tools hang. Each of the tools from the board are now impaling the dead man all over his body. Miriam studied the corpse of the murdered man.** _  
  
_**"Where is everyone?" Miriam asked.** _

_**"Just you and me for the time being. When heavily manned investigations have little to feed on, they tend to turn in on themselves, covering the same ground over and over,** _  
_**beating it flat. They take on the circular shape of a hurricane." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"We’re chasing the storm?" Miriam asked.** _  
  
_**"The storm is chasing us. Have a look around. Tell me what you see." Jack said.** _

_**Miriam steps toward the wounded man on the peg board. "He did it all here. Did it while he was alive. He struck his throat so he couldn’t call for help." She said.** _  
  
_**"You think he was unconscious when the Ripper did the ripping?" Jack asked her.** _  
  
_**"No. He’d want him awake." Miriam said. "Organs were removed. Not all of  them. He was choosy. He took the liver, thymus but left the heart."** _

_**Jack looks over the body, purposefully not looking at Miriam as he asked, "What is he doing with the organs?"** _  
  
_**"Surgical trophies. He’s hiding that he takes them, distracting us with what he does to the body. Wants us to think it’s an afterthought." Miriam replied. "He’s a medical doctor, isn’t he? That why you call him the Ripper?"** _  
  
_**"Why do you say that?" Jack asked.** _

_**"Psychopaths are attracted to surgical fields. They offer power. Require an ability to make objective clinical decisions without feeling." Miriam** _  
  
_**"White male? 40s? 50s?" Jack asked.** _  
  
_**"Don’t know if he’s white. He’s exotic somehow. Which is why you’re going to catch him." Miriam said.** _  
  
_**"I’m going to catch him?" Jack asked surprised.** _  
  
_**"We call you the guru. You have a peculiar cleverness." Miriam answered.** _  
  
_**"I’ll take that as a compliment." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"You should. Your color sense, the textures of your clothes. Even by FBI standards of agent dress codes, you have an odd vibrancy about you." Miriam said. Jack allows himself a small smile, his back turned to Miriam so there’s no concern of breaking character. "So does the Ripper. You’ll probably spot him before anybody else."** _  
  
_**"Or you will." Jack said his small smile quickly fades. "Now I want you to look at this."** _

**F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA**

A picture of the B.S.H.C.I. crime scene. Nurse Shell’s body is impaled on the broken frames of several privacy curtains and infirmary equipment that have been fashioned into spears. They protrude from wounds all over her body, not unlike the wound man in the workshop. Jack stared absently at Nurse Shell’s corpse, unaware that Will is studying him more closely than the dead body. Clarice is standing next to Will, as always. Brian, Beverly, Jimmy hover more closely over the body in lab coats and rubber gloves.  
  
"Nothing ever came up connecting the Chesapeake Ripper and Dr. Gideon on the Latent Descriptor Index." Jimmy said.  
  
"There’s no detectable consistency with the Ripper victims. He doesn’t hunt exclusively within his own ethnic group. He’s killed all creeds, colors, men and women." Beverly said.  
  
"She has the exact same wound patterns as the last known victim of the Chesapeake Ripper. Exact." Brian said.  
  
"We didn’t find a body for his last known victim." Jack said.  
  
"Then the victim before that." Brian said.  
  
"I see the Ripper but I don’t...feel the Ripper. He’s an artist. This is...plagiarism." Will said.  
  
"We never made the wound patterns on any of the Ripper victims public." Jack said.

"Maybe he is the Ripper, I don’t know. But if he is a plagiarist, the real Chesapeake Ripper is going to make sure everybody knows it." Will said.

"Something for look forward to..." Clarice said with a sigh.

**JACK CRAWFORD’S HOUSE**

Jack Crawford sleeping alone in his bedroom. His falling breaths the only sound in the room. 2:47 AM. A moment of stillness, then the sound of ringing. Jack startled awake.  
  
"Bella." Jack said sleepily. The side of the bed where Jack’s wife Bella normally sleeps is empty. Jack stirred, reached across Bella’s still-fluffed pillow and picked up the phone. "Hello?" 

An eerily long pause, then out of a brief shift of static:

"Jack... Jack..." A familiar voice spoke from the other side.

Jack is trying to wake up, "Who is this?"  
  
"Jack... it’s Miriam."  
  
"Miriam?" Jack repeated.  
  
"I don’t know where I am. I can’t see anything. I was so wrong. I was so wrong. Please... Jack... I don’t want to die like this." Miriam said.

The line goes dead, Jack is alone in the darkness...

**B.A.U. - FORENSIC DATA - MORNING**

A phone rang. And then another. And another. Overlapping, intertwining. A graphic representing telephone relay points and trunk lines blinked and strobe like synapses across the digital map of a human brain, activating a scrolling list of numbers as telephone tracing software crunches data. Beverly stood at her work station studying the data on her computer monitor as Jimmy looked over her shoulder. Brian sat on a stool. Jack stood in the middle of the room and Will hovered near the door. Clarice is standing next to the door with her arms and legs crossed.  
  
"I’m hooked into every carrier database and telephone provider in the United States. Nothing." Beverly said.  
  
"Look again." Jack said.  
  
"I did my again. And my again and again. I can’t find any electronic trace of any call made to your home phone at 2:47 AM." Beverly said.  
  
"The phone rang." Jack said.  
  
"Did it wake up your wife?" Brian asked.  
  
"I was alone." Jack said.  
  
"If there was a call..." Jimmy started to say.  
  
"What do you mean “if?”" Jack asked interrupting him.  
  
"Whoever called could have tapped in from that little box outside your house. Or the junction in your neighborhood. There would be no trace signal to track." Jimmy said.

"You’re sure it was Miriam Lass?" Beverly asked.  
  
"It was Miriam Lass." Jack said.

"Haven’t heard her voice in 2 years." Brian said.

Clarice looked at him in annoyance, to her it sounded like Jack was certain he was being called by this Miriam person.  
  
"If you continue to question my certainty I need to know so I can tell you to leave the room while it’s still safe for you to be here." Jack said. And that shuts Brian up, Clarice lets out a soft, amused snort at that. "Chesapeake Ripper recorded Miriam Lass as he was killing her 2 years ago. He called me last night at 2:47 AM and played that recording."  
  
"That call didn’t come from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane." Will spoke up then.  
  
"That we would’a been able to trace." Beverly said.  
  
"What if it wasn’t a recording? You said yourself there was no body." Will said.  
  
"Miriam Lass is dead. Chesapeake Ripper is making it very clear someone is plagiarizing his work." Jack said.  
  
"I’ll say it once more, just to say it. It was 2:47 in the morning. If you get roused from deep sleep, you’re going to be disoriented. May not even know you’re asleep." Brian said.

Clarice rolled her eyes and shook her head but she doesn't say anything.

"I know when I’m awake." Jack said.

Will reacted to that, not always sure he knows the same.

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL**

Will who gathered his notes and sat behind his desk as F.B.I. trainees file out of the classroom. Clarice is taking her time putting her things away. He took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, finally glancing up to see: the light at the end of the tunnel becomes obscured. A haunting sound coming towards him. Will stared down the entrance corridor to the classroom.

"Will...?" Alana asked  
  
He startled awake every so slightly, lost in a day dream. The black stag of his waking nightmare was in fact an approaching Alana and Jack. Clarice was standing next to him further startling her mentor.  
  
"You looked like you were dreaming." Alana said.  
  
"Was thinking about something else." Will said.  
  
"I got something for you to think about. We have a medium where we can speak to the Chesapeake Ripper. Is there a way to push him?" Jack asked.  
  
"Push him toward what?" Will asked.  
  
"We might be able to influence him to blow up and become visible." Alana said.  
  
"Could we enrage him?" Jack asked.

"To what purpose, Jack? I’m not sure what you’re asking for." Will said.  
  
"Advice. That’s what I’m asking for. Could we enrage the Chesapeake Ripper and focus his attention?" Jack asked.  
  
"He’s already focused on Gideon as his adversary. Don’t fool around." Will said.  
  
"Gideon’s just a tabloid rumor. We need to make him the truth." Jack said.  
  
"You might push the Ripper to kill again just to prove he isn’t in a hospital for the criminally insane." Will said.  
  
"I have to push, Will." Jack said. "What do you think, Ms. Starling?"

Clarice is surprised by the sudden question but she answered truthfully, "If it's the only way to get to the real Ripper to show himself then do it."

"Are you thinking about playing ball with Freddie Lounds?" Will asked.  
  
"You know yourself it’s the best way to bait the real Chesapeake Ripper." Jack said.

 **F.B.I. ACADEMY - CONFERENCE ROOM**  
  
Freddie sat quietly, eyes following the shape of the room, casually scanning her surroundings. Jack entered, warm and welcoming. He’s playing an angle and Freddie happily played along. Alana, Clarice and Will enter with Jack. Everyone sat at the table.  
  
"Good morning, Agent Crawford. Thank you for inviting me." Freddie said.  
  
"This is Dr. Bloom, one of our psychiatric consultants. And I believe you know Will Graham. And Clarice Starling." Jack said.

"Dr. Bloom. Hello, Mr. Graham. Ms. Starling. So good to see you." Freddie said.

"I can't say the same." Clarice said with a smile.

Freddie glared at her and Clarice's smile simply widen. She may have that legendary Southern politeness but it went South when it came to Freddie Lounds.

Will simply stared, inscrutable. Jack addressed Freddie instead, when it became clear that neither Will or Clarice wanted to be here nor did they want to talk to her, "You got all the qualities of a good reporter, Ms. Lounds. Intelligence, guts, and the good eye. How did you end up where you ended up?"  
  
"Where I ended up being criminal justice journalism?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Criminal justice journalism being a euphemism for tabloid reporting." Will said.  
  
"You ran an unconfirmed story on the Chesapeake Ripper. What I want is for you to confirm it." Jack said.  
  
"An exclusive story would be a coup." Freddie said.  
  
"You would have the satisfaction of seeing Chicago Tribune, Los Angeles Times, the sanctified Washington Post and the holy New York Times run copyrighted material under your byline with a picture credit." Jack said.  
  
"What’s against you and by association us is your brand of journalism is obnoxious, and therefore disliked." Will said.  
  
"Yes, that is an obstacle. I tried to get an interview with Dr. Gideon. I was denied. Evidently some trouble with my euphemism." Freddie said.

That didn't surprise Clarice at all.

"I’m friendly with the new Chief of Staff. I can get you an interview." Alana said.

"Not to snap bubblegum and crack wise, but what’s my angle? Is he the Chesapeake Ripper or you just want me to tell everybody he is." Freddie said.  
  
"He could be. Certain personalities are attracted to certain professions." Alana said.  
  
"Do you know which professions psychopaths disproportionately gravitate to?" Jack asked.  
  
"CEOs, lawyers. The clergy." Freddie said.  
  
"Number 5 on the list is surgeons." Jack said.  
  
"I know that list." Freddie said.  
  
"Then you know what number six is." Will said.  
  
"Journalists. Know what number seven is, Mr. Graham?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Law enforcement." Will said.

Clarice stared at Freddie silently.  
  
"Here we are. A bunch of psychopaths helping each other out." Freddie said.

**B.S.H.C.I. - HIGH SECURITY CELL BLOCK**

Freddie stepped through the Security Gate and it slide shut ominously behind her. She doesn’t flinch, instead walking confidently down the corridor. She approached Gideon’s cell to find him waiting for her. Freddie sat in the chair opposite the security barrier.  
  
"Dr. Gideon. I’m Freddie Lounds. May I call you Dr. Gideon or would you prefer the Chesapeake Ripper?" Freddie asked.

 **HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY**  

Hannibal is at his desk, tattlecrime.com on his browser pronouncing “HOW THE RIPPER RIPS: AN EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW” over a picture of Dr. Gideon. He shook his head making a disapproving tsk-tsk-tsk sound.

**HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM**

Dr. Chilton took in the savory bite from the plate of elegantly prepared and presented lamb tongue in front of him. Dr. Chilton, Alana and Hannibal sat around his table.  
  
"Inspired by Auguste Escoffier, Langue d’agneau en Papillotte served with a sauce of duxelle and oyster mushrooms, picked myself." Hannibal said.  
  
"Don’t think I’ve ever had tongue." Alana said.  
  
"It was a particularly chatty lamb." Hannibal said.  
  
"Romans would kill flamingos just to eat their tongues." Chilton said.  
  
"Don’t give me ideas. Your tongue is very feisty and as this evening has already proven, it’s nice to have an old friend for dinner." Hannibal said.

Hannibal, Alana and Dr. Chilton are gathered around the beautifully appointed dining table.  
  
"To the Chesapeake Ripper." Chilton said. "Dr. Gideon is going to provide us with the singular opportunity to analyze a pure sociopath. It’s so rare to find one in captivity."

Hannibal raises his glass, but Alana does not.  
  
"I see three possibilities: Gideon is the Chesapeake Ripper or he just thinks he is, or he knows he isn’t." Alana said. "Clarice seems to think it's the one of the two latters."

She didn't notice Hannibal perk up at the mention of Clarice's name.

"He is. He knows he is. So do I. But it will be a challenge to tell what he’s holding back or whether he understands more than he’ll say." Chilton said. "And Ms. Starling is just a trainee...a lovely trainee but still a trainee who doesn't know how to read killers just yet."  
  
"Did you discuss the Chesapeake Ripper’s crimes with Dr. Gideon before he murdered the night nurse?" Hannibal asked. He was angry about how Chilton spoke about Clarice but it didn't show.

Dr. Chilton nodded his head and said, "When I began to suspect who he was. Feeling he was about to be exposed may have spurred him to action."  
  
"Is it possible you inadvertently planted the suggestion in Gideon’s mind that he was the Ripper?" Alana asked.  
  
"Not suggesting coercive persuasion?" Chilton asked.  
  
"I said inadvertently." Alana corrected.  
  
"Psychic driving is unethical." Chilton said.  
  
"But reasonable in certain circumstances." Hannibal said.  
  
"What circumstances?" Alana asked.  
  
"It may’ve been useful trying to remind Gideon he’s the Chesapeake Ripper if he repressed those memories, but he seems to have come to that awareness all by himself." Hannibal said.

Alana and Dr. Chilton simultaneously look at Hannibal.  
  
"Would you mind if I had another session with Dr. Gideon?" Alana asked.  
  
"Not at all. I’d love your insight. And if he’s been unethically manipulated somehow I need to know." Chilton said.  
  
"Dr. Chilton... would you care to assist me with dessert?" Hannibal asked the other man.  
  
In the kitchen Hannibal peeled grapes to garnish a gelatin dish, "I love Norton grapes. Same color inside as outside. Peel it and the flesh is also purple, not like other grapes where flesh is white and color comes from the skin."  
  
"A grape with nothing to hide." Chilton said.

Hannibal lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Were I in your position, I would have attempted psychic driving. Based on your familiarity with the subject, perhaps you already have."

"How dare you." Chilton said.  
  
"I dare in many varied ways, but I promise... I’m much more forgiving of the unorthodox than Dr. Bloom." Hannibal said.

Dr. Chilton taking that in...

**DINER**

Clarice is eating a late lunch, early dinner at her favorite diner, she knew the owner and employees very well she called them by name and they also called her by name. She sat down on her usual stool at the counter.

"Hey, Anna." She smiled at the middle aged woman who walked towards her from behind the counter.

Anna smiled as she placed a coffee cup in front of the trainee and poured her a cup of coffee, "Hello, Clarice...the usual?"

Clarice grabbed some packs of sugar and creamer and stirred it then she picked it up and took a sip, "Yes, please."

"Alright." Anna smiled at her and walked off.

Joe, the cook who was a kindly large man, peeked up from behind the counter from the kitchen, "Hey, Clarice...how are you?"

"Hey, Joe. Hungry."

"You do realize that there's better diners around town, right?" Joe teased her.

Clarice laughed as she took a sip of her coffee, "I like the warm feeling of this one...you're all like one big family to me."

"And Joe's the crazy uncle that no one likes to talk about." Lucy, a waitress, quipped as she walked by carrying dirty dishes.

The trainee laughed at that and smiled, "Exactly."

Joe pouted before he chuckled and got Clarice's food ready, he placed the plate on the counter and hit the bell, "Order up!"

Anna came over and took the plate before she placed it down in front of Clarice, "Your usual, darling."

"Thanks, looks good." Clarice said before she took a bite of her BLT sandwich. After she chewed and swallowed her food, she grabbed the ketchup bottle and poured it next to her fries. She grabbed a fry and dipped it into the red, sweet sauce. "Delicious as always, Joe." She said as soon she was finished chewing and swallowing.

"Just a normal BLT, Clarice." Joe said with a laugh. "But thanks."

She winked and smiled at him before she continued eating her meal.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see more Hannibal/Clarice scenes, let me know and also tell me what you want to see during those scenes. No sex, at least not yet that happens much later ;D


	19. Chapter 19

**Entree Part 3**

**B.S.H.C.I. - HIGH SECURITY CELL BLOCK**

Jack sat opposite Dr. Gideon in the cell block.  
  
"Are you enjoying reading my mail?" Gideon asked him.  
  
"Not personally. I’ll be getting the abbreviated version." Jack said.  
  
"Looking for something instructional? Diagrams. Don’t think I could recreate one of my own murders from memory?" Gideon asked.  
  
"Wouldn’t be your memory you’d be recreating it from. You’re not the Chesapeake Ripper." Jack said.  
  
"We’ll have to agree to disagree." Gideon said.  
  
"Alright, why the surgical trophies?" Jack asked.  
  
"Well, Agent Crawford, there’re just things you’re not allowed to do in a state certified operating room." Gideon said.  
  
"No trophies from killing your wife and her family at Thanksgiving. You didn’t put them on display." Jack said.

"Crimes of passion. You know how stressful the holidays can get. But you’re not here to talk about my wife or even the night nurse." Gideon said.  
  
"What am I here to talk about?" Jack asked.  
  
"Your trainee. Miriam something." Gideon said.  
  
"Telling me you killed Miriam Lass?" Jack asked.  
  
"I didn’t want to kill her. But yes, I did. Don’t be mad at me." Gideon said.  
  
"I’m not mad at you. I know where you are and how you got here. Not expecting dignified conduct, or even the truth, for that matter. Which you’re being awfully forthcoming about all of a sudden." Jack said.  
  
"What do I have to lose? You know where I am and how I got here." Gideon said.  
  
"Why didn’t you put her on display?" Jack asked.  
  
"What makes you think I didn’t? Shouldn’t be so literal about what you consider a display." Gideon said. RING. RING. Jack Crawford’s phone sounds from his pocket. "Who could that be."

Jack looks at his caller ID, which simply reads “HOME.”

"Excuse me." Jack said

As Jack is walking away, Dr. Gideon said, "Polite thing to do is tell them you’ll call them back. Unless, of course, that’s not an option."

Jack eyed Dr. Gideon, then exited. Jack stepped outside, taking his phone and re-dialing home. He listened as it rang once, twice then picked up, "Sorry I couldn’t pick up. You’re home early. Everything alright?" An eerie moment of room tone, then the recorded voice of Miriam said from the other end, "Please... Jack... I don’t want to die like this."  
  
**JACK CRAWFORD’S HOUSE**

Brian photographed a footprint in the carpet as Beverly scanned the depression in the bed linens with a UV light. Jimmy is taking forensic trace off the bedside phone. He diligently dusts for prints on the handset, capturing them with a strip of transparent tape. Jack and Will look on.  
  
"Getting a lot of usable prints. Probably just you and your wife’s." Jimmy said.  
  
"I can’t imagine the Chesapeake Ripper would start leaving prints at a crime scene now." Brian said.

Jimmy placed the newly imprinted tape strips on his handset, scanning them into the device.  
  
"I can see three distinct beauties." Jimmy said then to Jack Crawford. "Yours, your wife’s and presumably the Chesapeake Ripper."

Clarice, Will and Jack are standing together as the other three worked.

"He was in my home. He was in my bedroom. He sat where my wife sleeps. He touched her pillow." Jack said.  
  
"Did Miriam Lass know where you live?" Will asked.  
  
"If she wanted to know, she was smart enough to find out." Jack said.  
  
"Could’ve told the Chesapeake Ripper before he killed her. Did you know you were sending her after him?" Will asked.  
  
"I sent her after information." Jack said.  
  
"Whoever made that phone call thinks you were close to Miriam Lass and feel responsible for her death." Will said.  
  
"She was my trainee. I am responsible for her death." Jack said.

Will couldn't help himself from looking at Clarice, how would he act if she was killed? He didn't want to know or even think about it.  
  
"The Ripper didn’t just touch her pillow. He put his head on it. Somebody’s been sleeping in your bed." Beverly said she plucked a long blonde hair from the indentation in the pillow lying on Bella Crawford’s side of the bed. "And there he is. Or she is." She looked at the strand closely. "Was Miriam Lass a blonde?"  
  
"Yes." Jack answered.  
  
"She was here." Jimmy said.  
  
"She’s dead." Jack said.

"I pulled her fingerprints from the VICAP database, Jack. Got a match." Jimmy said.

Jack, his back turned, absorbing that statement yet rejecting the reality of it..

 _ **"Don’t you have classes today?" Jack asked he stands behind his desk studying a report Miriam standing in his doorway. He turns to her. "You’re still in school, aren’t you?"** _  
  
_**"Yes, sir. Thought this might be more important than “Exclusionary Rules of Search and Seizure”." Miriam said.** _  
  
_**"Is that what you thought? An internal wince at her cocky misstep. She tries to correct." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"I left a report here for you last night. I don’t know if you got it." Miriam said.** _  
  
_**"I got it." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"Did you read it?" Miriam asked.** _  
  
_**"Go back to class." Jack said. Miriam stands there a moment, unable to draw her jaw shut. "Frustrated, Lass? Better start forming a callus or frustration is going to wear you through."** _  
  
_**"Could’ve at least read the report." Miriam said.** _  
  
_**"I read it." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"Your assessment? Sir." Miriam asked.** _  
  
_**"My assessment is instead of being here you should be sitting in a lecture hall boning up on “Good Faith Warrant Exceptions"." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"Did something change?" Miriam asked.** _  
  
_**"Some days you wake up changed. Hope you’re having one of those days." Jack said. Miriam wounded and confused, she turned and started to walk away. "What you’re proposing in your report breaks confidentiality laws. You shouldn’t be so dismissive about what you’re learning here."** _  
  
_**"If the Chesapeake Ripper is a surgeon, we should look at medical records of all the known victims. I know we wouldn’t get a warrant without something substantial..." Miriam said.** _  
  
_**"It’s one thing for a trainee to go poking around private medical records without a warrant, very much another if “The Guru” did it." Jack said.** _

_**That stops Miriam. She’s getting it, "Better for a Trainee to ask for forgiveness than an FBI agent to ask for permission?"** _  
  
_**"In my experience." Jack said.** _  
  
_**"Then I hope you forgive me for skipping class today." Miriam said.** _

_**Bolstered, Miriam exits and a genuine smile creeps across Jack Crawford’s face.** _

**B.S.H.C.I. - HIGH SECURITY CELL BLOCK**

"If someone were using manipulative methods, psychological or otherwise..." Alana said she sat outside of Dr. Gideon’s cell as he sat inside, watching her closely as he listened. "...to subvert your sense of control, you may not realize it unless those methods are pointed out to you."  
  
"Which might in fact be a manipulative method of itself." Gideon said.  
  
"You were a model patient. You behaved yourself for two years." Alana said.  
  
"No opportunity to misbehave." Gideon said.  
  
"You could have been pushed." Alana said.  
  
"Unethically?" Gideon asked.  
  
"I can help you find out. But I need your trust to do that." Alana said.  
  
"I trust you, Dr. Bloom." Chilton said.

That statement neither of them believes is entirely true

\-----

Will and Clarice sat with Chilton in the seating area, casually though Clarice was on guard. The trainee was always with her teacher, he was curious about why but he certainly wasn't going to complain because he found Trainee Clarice Starling to be very attractive even though she rarely ever spoke to him.  
  
"We both know you’re a distraction. I would have given Dr. Bloom her privacy, but I appreciate the opportunity to get to know you." Gideon said  
  
"What do they say about me in psychiatric circles?" Will asked.  
  
"Too many mirror neurons. Supposed to help us socialize and go away, but you must have held onto yours, which makes socializing difficult." Chilton said.  
  
"It’s a mild form of echopraxia." Will said.  
  
"Yes, I know. During intense conversations, do you take on the other person’s speech patterns?" Chilton asked.  
  
"Not that I’m aware of." Will said.  
  
"Watch out if you do." Chilton said.

 **B.S.H.C.I. - HIGH SECURITY CELL BLOCK**  

"I can honestly say I appreciate your concern, Dr. Bloom. But I don’t think you can help me." Gideon said.

A deep groan, as if the entire building sighed. Then the red lights on the doors go green. Alana watched as one by one, they open. Dr. Gideon as he stared at Alana through the crack in the now-ajar cell door. Then darkness. In the time it took Alana to steal a breath, the orange emergency lights flash on, illuminating patients as they emerge from their cells. Alana glanced over to see Dr. Gideon.

He’s already out...

\----  
  
Dr. Chilton, Clarice and Will reacted to the familiar deep groan. Then the power goes out. Stark emergence lighting flashed on. A flurry of movement amongst staff silhouetted by emergency lighting. Will emerged from Dr. Chilton’s office to find a group of hospital security hurrying down the dark corridor, he is quickly joined by Clarice. Dr. Chilton stepped into the hall and watched a moment as Will and Clarice headed down the corridor, then goes back into his office. As if he has some idea how events may play out.  
  
Will is immediately on the heels of the hospital security, who secure the first two cells, before stopping at the last.  
  
"Get away from her. Step away now." Will and Clarice followed hospital security toward the last cell. They surround the door, opening it. "Turn around and lace your fingers  
behind your head."

Alana stood calmly in Gideon’s cell, unharmed. The Doctor himself is backing away from Alana, lacing his fingers behind his head, as instructed. As the hospital security take down Dr. Gideon, Alana walked out of the cell toward Will and Clarice, explaining, "Pulled me into his cell to protect me from the other patients. Would the real Chesapeake Ripper do that?"  
  
"Come to think of it, he might." Will answered.

"Are you okay, Doctor Bloom?" Clarice asked.

"I'm fine, thanks to him...surprisingly." Alana said.

"Yeah..." Clarice said thoughtfully as she eyed Gideon with a curious look on her face.

Clarice, Alana and Will notice Dr. Chilton entering the ward.

"What happened?" Will asked.  
  
"We had a power outage. Entire hospital. No one knows what caused it. We’re on backup generators." Chilton said. "Is everyone alright?"

Dr. Chilton stole a glance at Dr. Gideon’s cell as he is hauled to his feet and away from the barrier.  
  
"I’m fine." Alana asked as she questioned Dr. Chilton’s concern...

**F.B.I. ACADEMY**

Jack Crawford moving through the hall when his phone rang from his breast pocket. He took it out and considered it a moment as it continued to ring. He finally accepted the call and put the phone to his ear and closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable...

**ABANDONED OBSERVATORY**

Beverly, Clarice and Will are approaching the abandoned building; Jack hanged back as he considered what they may find. Various FBI agents are in the background.  
  
"The last call was made to Jack’s cell from a disposable phone traced here. Or within a 100 feet of here." Beverly said.  
  
"What was Miriam Lass looking into?" Will asked.  
  
"Medical records. If the Ripper was a surgeon, she thought he might have treated one of his victims." Beverly said.  
  
"They retraced her steps?" Will asked.  
  
"The ones they could find. She made a jump somewhere they couldn’t explain. You make those jumps." Beverly said.  
  
"The evidence has to be there." Clarice said.  
  
"Every surgeon that came into contact with any of the Ripper victims has been thoroughly vetted and or currently under observation." Beverly said.  
  
"Including Dr. Gideon." Will said.

Jack approacheed, solemn, "Dr. Gideon wasn’t in my bedroom. The Chesapeake Ripper was." He took his phone out of his coat pocket. "That last call left something the others didn’t. A phone number." Jack pressed call. An uncomfortably long beat. Jack is about to end the call, then they hear a distant ringing. And another.

Jack, Clarice Will and the FBI agents turn toward the Observatory. Empty. Neglected Astronomy equipment and the machines that repair them lay long dormant, dust-covered. Jack moved ahead of Will and Clarice toward the source of the ring and then slowed, becoming suddenly hesitant about what he might discover. Then the ringing stopped.

He hardened his resolve as he saw under the telescope: a hand holding a cell phone. Slightly discolored, like recently graying pig flesh. The hand is attached to a severed arm, nothing else. Next to the arm, under the telescope is a sign with a simple note that reads: “What do you see?” Jack dropped his head.  
  
**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Hannibal sat on the edge of his desk studying Jack as he gazed out the window at Baltimore and beyond.  
  
"What would be the benefit of making you believe your trainee was alive?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Hope. The Ripper wanted to cloud my vision in the fog of hope." Jack answered.  
  
"It can sometimes be brave to allow yourself hope." Hannibal said.  
  
"Not the false kind." Jack said. "I’m not here to talk about the Ripper. It was a mistake for me to come to you the other day, asking about my wife and her therapy."  
  
"Not to worry. I won’t discuss your visits with her anymore than I’ll discuss her visits with you." Hannibal said.  
  
"Please don’t." Jack said.  
  
"May I ask when your trainee disappeared, how long before you gave up hope?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Started the minute they told me she was missing. Gave up more every minute that passed after that." Jack answered.  
  
"Don’t give up hope for your wife. Not yet." Hannibal said.  
  
"Bella’s accepted she’s going to crash. Stage four cancer. Said herself there’s no stage five." Jack said.  
  
"She’s lost hope. Which means you can’t." Hannibal said.  
  
"You think I have control of that?" Jack asked.  
  
"Take control." Hannibal replied.  
  
"You keep trying to be my psychiatrist, Dr. Lecter." Jack said.  
  
"Because I believe you need one." Hannibal said.  
  
"That makes one of us." Jack said.  
  
"I’m sorry about your wife, Jack. I truly am. I believe the world is a better place with her in it. And I’m sorry about your trainee." Hannibal said.  
  
"Whatever the Ripper was doing, it worked. I thought she was alive. For a moment, anyway. I allowed myself to believe what I knew was impossible. I got played." Jack said.

"Indulge me. Talk to me about her. What was her name?" Hannibal asked.  
  
**_Miriam Lass stands in the doorway speaking to Hannibal._**  
  
**_"My name is Miriam Lass. With the FBI. I’d show you my credentials, but I’m actually just a trainee." Miriam said as she introduced himself to the doctor._**  
  
**_"Never just a trainee. An agent in training. Please. Come in." Hannibal said._**  
  
**_Miriam does and Hannibal closes the door behind her._**  
  
**_"I was hoping to talk to you about a former patient, not necessarily one of yours, but someone you might have come in contact with. When you were a practicing physician." Miriam said._**  
  
**_"I haven’t practiced medicine in some time, but fortunately for you I have a very good memory." Hannibal said._**  
  
**_"His name was Jeremy Olmstead." Miriam said._**  
  
**_"Perhaps not so good a memory after all. I don’t recall a patient with that name, but it sounds familiar." Hannibal said._**  
  
**_"He was recently found murdered in his workshop. We think he may be a victim of the Chesapeake Ripper." Miriam explained._**  
  
**_"Ah. That’s why he sounds familiar. It’s been all over the news." Hannibal said._**  
  
**_"He had two old scars on his thigh. Pathologist checked with the local hospital. He had fallen out of a tree-blind five years ago while bow hunting. Stuck an arrow through his leg. Doctor of record was a resident surgeon, but you were on duty in the ER that night." Miriam said._**  
  
**_"I was?" Hannibal asked playing dumb_**  
  
**_"Your name was on an admissions log." Miriam said._**  
  
**_"Let me think. You’ll have to forgive me. I saw so many people in the ER, but not so many hunters." Hannibal said._**  
  
**_"It’s been a long time since the accident, but I thought you might remember if anything seemed fishy about the arrow wound." Miriam said._**  
  
**_"If it’s the gentleman I’m thinking of, I vaguely remember a fellow hunter bringing him in. But I recall very little else." Hannibal said._**  
  
**_"Figured it was a long shot." Miriam said._**  
  
**_"I did keep detailed journals during those days. If you like, I can get them for you. Maybe you’ll find something helpful." Hannibal offered._**  
  
**_"That’d be great. Would you mind?" Miriam asked grateful._**  
  
**_"Not at all. If you’ll wait here, I’ll be right back." Hannibal said._**  
  
**_"Thank you." Miriam said._**

**_Hannibal crosses to the ladder and climbs up to the second level. Miriam strolls over to a table with drawings. She casually peruses the stack of pencil illustrations. On the table with pencil sketches was a drawing of the wound man, an illustration used in early medical books featuring a man covered in impalement. The workshop victim’s wounds closely resemble the battle injuries of the drawing._  ** **_Her face goes slack, recognizing the connection between the murdered man in the workshop and Hannibal Lecter’s sketch. Hannibal's socked feet padding across the room quietly and quickly toward Miriam, sneaking up behind her. His hands reach out, hanging briefly in the air, and then snatch. Hannibal coils around Miriam quickly and violently, yet with elegant precision, hoisting her off her feet. She cries out but her yelp is cut short. She kicks violently, legs swinging, sending the table and pencil drawings into the air. Hannibal is like a column of marble, motionless as Miriam twists and throws, trying in vain to knock him off balance. She reaches behind her head, clawing at Hannibal but he_ ** **_presses his face almost sensually against the back of her neck to protect face and eyes from her slashing fingernails. Miriam’s eyes roll, defeated, tear-filled, knowing she’s going to die. She begins to go limp in Hannibal’s arms._ **

**_A gush of blood sprays across the stack of drawings scattered on the floor and the overturned table. As the blood is absorbed into the paper._ **

"Clarice reminds me of Miriam a lot." Jack's voice broke Hannibal out of his memory.

"How so?"

"I don't know, she just does." Jack said truthfully. "I fear that I will lose her to the Ripper as well. I'm sure that Will feels the same way given how protective he can be of her though he seemed to be alright allowing her on field."

"Ms. Starling is strong." Hannibal said. "I don't think she'll disappear easily, not without a good fight. And she's the type to leave a trail of bread crumbs for you to follow."

Jack doesn't say anything but he does allow a small, grateful smile.


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorbet Part 1**

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL**

\A picture of a man in a pew. His tongue served as a page marker in his Bible. Will is silhouetted by the image. Clarice is sitting in the front row, writing down notes as she glanced up every now and again to look at the screen.

"The Chesapeake Ripper murders in Sounders of three." Will said, he stands in front of his classroom. "He did his first victims in nine days. Annapolis." A new picture. "Essex." Another one. "And Baltimore. He didn’t kill again for 18 months. Then there was another Sounder of three in as many days. All in Baltimore." The reflection of the crime scene pictures reflect off of Will Graham’s glasses. "I use the term Sounders because it refers to a small group of pigs. That’s how he sees his victims. Not as people, not as prey. Pigs." Will turns back to the trainees as he clicks again. "Eleven months after the sixth victim there was a seventh." A picture of Jeremy Olmstead. He's impaled by several tools on his workbench. "Two days later, the eighth is killed in his workshop. Every tool on the pegboard where they hung was used against him. As with the previous murders, organs were removed." A picture of the Wound Man Illustration From Hans von Gersdorff’s _Fieldbook of Wound Surgery_. "The removal of organs and abdominal mutilations means someone with anatomical or surgical know how. There is a distinctive brutality." Jack stood at the back of the entrance, watching in the dark. "An FBI Trainee named Miriam Lass was investigating private medical records of all the known victims when she disappeared. She is believed to be the Ripper’s ninth." A picture of Miriam Lass. "But no trace of her was found. Until recently, two years later. Her severed arm was discovered. Only because he wanted it to be." A picture of Miriam Lass' severed arm.

Jack stood soberly in the darkness, only Will and Clarice are aware of him.

"True to his established pattern, the Chesapeake Ripper has remained consistently theatrical." Will said.

**OPÉRA DE L'OUEST - MCCLUSTER HALL**

Soprano’s mouth as she portrayed the noble lady Lenora from Verdi’s Trovatore, “Tacea la notte placinda” vibrating from her vocal chords. Hannibal opened his eyes, they soften and crinkle, enjoying the feast of sound around him. In the string section, bows draw menacingly up into frame, appearing to float briefly before slashing down.

_Freshly slashed as if by a Cellist’s bow, the flesh separates and rich blood seeps from the wound._

Violins reach a fever.

Hannibal listened intently as he watched the conductor's baton carve the air with force and purpose. Simultaneously, Conductor and Hannibal (playing the “home game” from his seat) sharply part their hands. As instructed, the cymbal player prepared to crash instruments.

_An exposed thoracic cavity is pulled apart. Vital organs slowly swell and pulse, struggling._

The noble lady Lenora clutched her heart as she held her final note, which she sustained over the following...

_An exposed thoracic cavity, a shaking latex gloved hand wraps around the heart, squeezing and palpating to no apparent effect. Blood flows unstanched through the gloved fingers._

Lenora’s sustained note finally stopped and applause erupted from the Opera House.

Hannibal is first to his feet applauding enthusiastically. He should really bring Clarice here one day, she might like it though if he was honest, he wanted to see her dressed elegantly and beautifully with her hair and make up done. Elsewhere in the audience, Hannibal’s patient Franklyn Froideveaux standing and applauding next to his friend Tobias Budge, who is neither standing nor applauding. Franklyn can’t pry his eyes off his Doctor in Blue.

Hannibal is surrounded by members of Baltimore’s cultural elite, holding court as the audience mingles and/or exits. He is as sociable as Will is reclusive, Clarice is charming in her Southern way, engaged in conversation with a gorgeous woman in her 50s, Mrs. Komeda, as her husband and several other patrons look on.

"It’s been too long since you’ve properly cooked for us, Hannibal." Mrs. Komeda said.

"Come over and I will cook for you." Hannibal said as he noticed out of the corner of his eye Franklin Froidevaux and Tobias Budge navigating the crowd toward him. He casually focused on Mrs. Komeda as she spoke, affectionately teasing, "I said properly. Means dinner and the show. Have you seen him cook? It’s an entire performance. He used to throw such exquisite dinner parties. You heard me. Used to."

Hannibal teased her with false grandiosity and a warm smile, "I will again. Once inspiration strikes. I cannot force a feast. A feast must present itself."

"It’s a dinner party, not a unicorn." Mrs. Komeda said. "I hope this isn't too nosy but have you finally found a girlfriend, Mr. Lecter? You always come here alone."

"But the feast is life. You put the life in your belly and you live." Hannibal said. "Oh, I found someone but getting her to come here will be challenging."

"You must bring her next time." Mrs. Komeda said. "I would love to met her!"

"Of course, she would love to met you as well." Hannibal said with a smile.

The Cultural Elite are charmed. Yes, Clarice would be able to charm them as well maybe even better than Hannibal. Mr. Komeda noticed Franklyn and Tobias standing inside Hannibal’s peripheral vision.

"I believe that young man is trying to get your attention." Mr. Komeda said.

Hannibal turned, smiled warmly without betraying their relationship, and shook Franklyn’s hand.

"Hello." Hannibal said.

"Hi! Nice to see you." Franklyn said. "This is my friend, Tobias."

"Good evening." Hannibal said.

"How do you two know each other?" Mrs. Komeda asked curiously.

"There should remain some mystery to my life outside the opera." Hannibal said with a mysterious smile.

"I’m one of his patients." Franklyn said bluntly.

He tackled the potential awkward moment with social aplomb, Hannibal turned the subject back to the evening at hand by asking, "Did you enjoy the performance?" He would have rather it be Clarice that he had bumped into here, at least she would have acted like this was the first time they met or be a little more tactful with how she and him knew each other.

"I loved it. Every minute." Franklyn said.

Hannibal said, good-natured but firm, "Don’t say too much. You must leave something for us to discuss next week. Franklyn, good to see you." Hannibal hustled off Franklyn and Tobias with a handshake. "Tobias." Hannibal shook Tobias’s hand, politely shooing him and Franklyn away before turning back to the Cultural Elite. "Who’s hungry?"

\----

Jack, briefcase in hand, wearing his coat, made his way through the hall, distracted and haunted, but more importantly frustrated by Will’s Chesapeake Ripper Lecture. A muffled ringing of a cell phone goes initially ignored, until Jack realized there is no one in B.A.U. to answer it. He stopped. Glanced around as he looked for the source, he crossed into the morgue.

The muffled ringing is slightly louder. Jack listened intently as he zeroed in on the location of the ringing. A morgue drawer. Jack opened the stainless steel door and the cadaver tray slide out revealing a severed arm holding the phone. It’s still ringing...

He opened his eyes as his cell phone is ringing on his night stand in his bedroom. He answered the phone, "Hello."

\------

An F.B.I. C.S.I. S.U.V. barreled down the road. Will rubbed the disrupted sleep out of his eyes, sitting next to Jack in the backseat, who looked like he only just rubbed the sleep out of his own eyes. Clarice sat between the two men, looking like she was going to fall asleep at any second. Agents up front of the S.U.V.

"The victim was found in his hotel room bathtub. He had requested two keys at check in. No one saw a second guest come or go. Abdominal mutilation and organ removal." Jack explained.

Clarice jerked awake and rubbed the sleep from her eyes when he spoke, she yawned.

"Sounds more like an urban legend than the Chesapeake Ripper." Will said.  
  
"The room is sealed off until you get there. You’ll have it fresh." Jack said.  
  
"Fresh? Fresh as a daisy?" Will asked.  
  
"Fresh enough to tell me if it’s the Ripper. Then you go back to class." Jack said.

"You don’t want me in a classroom. You want me to wrap my head so tight around the Ripper, I won’t go back to class until he’s caught." Will said.  
  
"It’s your bad luck to be the best." Jack said.  
  
"Expecting a few more bodies after this one?" Will asked as he looked at Jack over a silent Clarice, she wasn't much of a talker when she gets so rudely woken up at an ungodly hour. Hence why she wasn't talking very much at the moment.  
  
"If it’s the Chesapeake Ripper I am." Jack said.  
  
"Don’t let the Ripper stir you up. Reason he left you Miriam Lass’ arm is so he could poke you with it." Will said.  
  
"Why not the rest of her?" Jack asked.  
  
"His other victims, he wanted to humiliate in death, like a public dissection. She was different. He respected Miriam Lass." Will explained.  
  
"Probably impressed she found him." Jack said.

"He had to kill her. I would’ve, if I were him. Just being practical." Will said.  
  
"He could be starting another cycle." Jack said.  
  
"You’ve heard from the Ripper directly. If he’s killing again, he’s not going to be subtle about it. He’ll just pick up the phone." Will said. "Any more phone calls, Jack?"  
  
"No." Jack said. "If this is the Ripper, there will be at least two more bodies, then nothing for months, maybe years. We’ll have a window to catch him and then that window will close. The last time it closed, I lost the Ripper and I lost Miriam Lass."

Jack lets that lay there a moment and glanced at Clarice, Clarice looked at him curiously but he looked away without saying anything to her.

~~~~

Will stepped out of the elevator following immediately on Jack’s heels, averting his eyes from the scattered local police officers lining the hallway adjacent to room 727. Will waits outside room 727 as Jack entered to find Jimmy dusting for fingerprints, Beverly combing the bed for hair and fibers, and Brian tweezing something out of a trail of blood that ran from the blood-stained bed to the bathroom in a wake of overturned furniture, the path of a struggle. Small flags indicate the larger pieces of tissue along the way.  
  
"Has anyone touched the body?" Jack asked.  
  
"Local police behaved themselves." Brian answered.

"It is fairly evident the man’s dead just by looking at him." Jimmy said.  
  
"I touched the body. A lot going on with that body. Surgery was performed. And then un-performed." Beverly said. "Hi, Will. Hi, Clarice."

Will waved quietly from the Hallway, which Brian ignored. Clarice smiled at the Asian woman and waved before she stared at Brian, annoyed at his attitude.  
  
"Surgery was un-performed with bare hands. Sutures were clawed open." Brian said as he tried to ignore Clarice's stare. "I did a little touching."  
  
"Pieces of him were torn off from bed to bathroom, like bread crumbs." Jimmy explained.

"Eww, thanks Jimmy." Clarice said.  
  
Will, Clarice and Jack stared at a man's body in the bathtub, opened from neck to pelvis, clothes (pajama bottoms, t-shirt) are ripped from the struggle. There are two or three inches of blood pooled in the tub.  
  
"Surgery wasn’t performed here. Would have been a lot more blood." Will said.

Katz, Zeller and Price are in the doorway.  
  
"If he’s moving his victims, he could be performing the mutilations in the same transport." Beverly said.  
  
"Find the car, find the killer." Jimmy said.

Will examined the hand of the dead man, turning the wrist so he can look under the fingernails.  
  
"He clawed open his own sutures." Will observed. 

Clarice looked over his shoulder, blue eyes taking in the same thing as her mentor.  
  
"Somebody sew something inside of him he was trying to get out?" Jack asked.

"Wasn’t to get his kidney. Ripper already took it with him. Or her." Beverly said.  
  
"I’ll say him." Jimmy said.  
  
"What did he take from his chest?" Jack asked.  
  
"Tried to take the heart, but was probably interrupted. It’s intact. Traumatized, but intact." Brian explained.

Will studied the open chest cavity as Jack followed Zeller, Price and Katz outside and quietly shut the door behind them leaving Will and Clarice alone. The mentor looked at his protege who nodded her head in understanding as she took a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes. Will took a deep breath, and as he exhaled...

A pendulum swung in the darkness of Clarice’s mind. She closed her eyes as the neck to pelvis wound closed over. A pendulum, it strummed the darkness. 

 _She took a step backward, eyes still closed as she continued to walk backwards out of the bathroom into the suite. The victim's pale, corpse foot slide out of the tub onto the floor into a pool of blood that crawled up its leg. She continued to walk backwards to the door as the massive blood stain next to the bed shrunk and disappeared. The body from the bathtub laid in the bed. The pendulum swung. Revealing Clarice and Mr. Murray tumble into a dresser, knock over a chair. The pendulum swung again revealing Clarice as she tumbled into the bathtub with Mr. Murray on top of her. Clarice saw the life fading from Mr. Murray’s eyes as he goes still. Acting quickly, Clarice pulled a scalpel from her bag of medical tools. She made an incision along Mr. Murray’s chest, cracked the sternum, and spread the ribs, she took his heart in hand._  
  
_"His heart seizes. I crack the sternum... spread the ribs, take his heart in my hand..." Clarice said. "Internal cardiac massage..." Mr. Murray died with Clarice wrist-deep in his chest._ Both mentor and protege opened their eyes and they're standing alone in the room over the dead man in the bathtub. Both are breathing deeply, chest heaving with every breath that they took.

"Well done, Clarice." Will praised his student.

"Thank you, Will." She said without her usual smile. 

Will sat on the toilet next to the empty bathtub, Clarice is standing close by with the Man’s Body opened from neck to pelvis. Jack is inside the room with Zeller, Price and Katz linger in the suite.  
  
"It’s the Chesapeake Ripper." Brian said.  
  
"It’s not the Ripper." Will said.  
  
"There are too many similarities." Brian said glaring at Will.  
  
"There aren’t enough." Will said.  
  
"Knife wounds are cuts, not stabs. Anatomical knowledge, dissecting skills. Mutilation, organ removal. Victim’s in clothes, on display. Can I say etcetera or should I go on? 22 signature components all attributable to the same killer." Brian said.  
  
"22 possible signature components." Will said.  
  
"It’s the Ripper." Brian repeated.

Without offense or even looking as he does it, Will closed the bathroom door on Zeller though the last thing he does see is Beverly smiling at his abrupt boldness.

Clarice looked at her mentor in shock, "I thought that was my stick, you know slamming doors on people who annoys me faces and all that...my boldness is rubbing off on you."

Will just smiled at her.  
  
"Are you sure?" Jack asked.  
  
"More or less." Will said.  
  
"Why are you sure?" Jack asked.  
  
"The Ripper left a victim in a church pew using his tongue as a page marker in the Bible he was holding. This isn’t that." Will said. "This is a medical student or a trainee. Someone trying to make an extra buck on a back-alley surgery and it went bad. Actively bad."

Jack takes a deep breath, exhaling, disappointed.  
  
"You’ll catch the Ripper eventually." Will added.  
  
"I want to catch him now. And when I do, you won’t have a chance to shoot him. Because I’m going to." Jack said.  
  
"You can’t just jack up the law and get underneath it." Will said.  
  
"Can’t I?" Jack asked. "How do you see the Ripper, Will?"  
  
"I see him as one of those pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals. They feed it, keep it warm, yet they don’t put it on the machines. They let it die. But he doesn’t die. He looks normal and nobody can tell what he is."

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - WAITING ROOM**

Hannibal opened the door and speaks to his next patient, "Good morning. Please come in." He's looking at a sheepish and awkward Franklyn waiting.  
  
An inscrutable Hannibal sat across from Franklyn, who sat silently for an uncomfortably long moment. Finally the doctor said, "Would you like to discuss our chance encounter?"  
  
"Wasn’t all together chance. I kinda thought you’d be there, which isn’t why I was there. I was there because I like that sort of thing. Just occurred to me you might, too." Franklyn said.  
  
"In fact, I do." Hannibal admitted.   
  
"I was trying to get your attention. Stand within your peripheral vision but not directly in front of you." Franklyn said.  
  
"I was aware of that." Hannibal said.  
  
"I knew you were aware, even though you pretended that you weren’t. It felt like you were rejecting me." Franklyn said.

Hannibal offered a small, warm smile as he said, "It would be unethical to approach a patient or acknowledge in any way our relationship outside this room until that patient gives consent." No, Clarice would have never acted like Franklyn did.  
  
"I don’t really know who you are outside this room." Franklyn said.  
  
"I’m your psychiatrist." Hannibal said.

If only Clarice was this interested in getting to know him outside this room but she wasn't and he had to deal with unwanted obsession.  
  
"I feel rejected again." Franklyn said.  
  
"Why do you suppose that is?" Hannibal asked him.  
  
"Cause I want you to be my friend." Franklyn admitted.

"Of course you do. I have intimate knowledge of you." Hannibal said.  
  
"And you like the same things I do. I think we’d be good friends. It makes me sad I have to pay you." Franklyn said.

Hannibal attempted to hone the topic of conversation to, "Tell me about Tobias."  
  
"Tobias is my best friend, but I am not Tobias’s best friend. He has cancelled on me so many times. He almost didn’t come to the show. But he sure took an active interest in my active interest in you." Franklyn said.  
  
"Have you put Tobias on a pedestal?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Yes and he saw a higher pedestal." Franklyn said.  
  
"I am a source of stability and clarity, Franklyn, not your friend." Hannibal said though with Clarice, his other, and more attractive, patient, he wanted to be something more than just doctor and patient.

"I’m a great friend." Franklyn said. "I was listening to Michael Jackson last night and I burst into tears. My eyes are burning right now even talking about it. You know what I think makes me the most sad about him dying? I will never meet him." Hannibal watched Franklyn evenly, allowing him to continue. "I feel if I had been his friend, I could have saved him from himself."  
  
"In this Michael Jackson fantasy, how is your friendship returned?" Hannibal asked.

"I just get to touch greatness." Franklyn said.

\---

The door opened and Hannibal speaks to his next patient, "Good afternoon. Please come in." A woman in her 60’s was sitting in the waiting room. Her name is Bedelia.

Hannibal sat opposite Bedelia, who doesn’t mince words as she said, "This always goes better if I’m perfectly honest with you."  
  
"What would be the point otherwise." Hannibal said.  
  
"Well, one of us has to be honest." Bedelia said.  
  
"I’m honest." Hannibal said.  
  
"Not perfectly." Bedelia said.  
  
"As honest as anyone." Hannibal said.  
  
"Not really. I have conversations with a version of you and hope the actual you gets what he needs." Bedelia said,  
  
"A version of me?" Hannibal repeated.  
  
"Naturally, I respect its meticulous construction, but you are wearing a very well tailored person suit." Bedelia said.

Hannibal said, good-natured teasing the older woman, "Do you refer to me as Person Suit with your psychiatrist friends?"

"I don’t discuss patients with my psychiatrist friends, particularly since I only have one patient who chose to ignore my retirement." Bedelia said.  
  
"A patient who wears a Person Suit." Hannibal said.  
  
"I can still see the shape of you, but you’re elegantly obstructed. So really, it’s less of a person suit and more of a human veil." Bedelia said.  
  
"I prefer we call it a human shield." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’m sure you do. You’re a complicated man, Hannibal. I imagine that must be lonely." Bedelia said.  
  
"I have friends. And the opportunities for friends." Hannibal said.  
  
"On the other side of the veil." Bedelia said.  
  
"You and I are friendly." Hannibal said.  
  
"Yes, and when your hour is up I expect you to pour me a glass of wine, nevertheless I’ll be drinking it on this side of the veil." Bedelia said.  
  
"Why do you bother?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I see enough of you to see the truth of you. And I like you." Bedelia said. Hannibal smiled, liking her too. "Red or white."  
  
"I think something pink, don’t you?" Hannibal asked.

\-----------

The door opens and Hannibal speaks to his next patient, "Good evening. Please come in."

Will and Clarice sitting inscrutably side by side, waiting for their turn. Clarice had her arms crossed over her chest and her legs were stretched out before her, legs crossed at the ankles. She lazily waved at Hannibal, looking ready to fall asleep.  
  
Hannibal sat opposite Will inside the office, the doctor had offered his couch to Clarice so that she could be comfortable while she waited for her turn but she politely declined saying that she would have fallen asleep if she sat down.   
  
"Have you been drinking?" Will asked.  
  
"I had a glass of wine with my last appointment." Hannibal admitted.  
  
"You drank with a patient?" Will asked.  
  
"She drank with a patient. I have an unconventional psychiatrist." Hannibal responded.  
  
"We have that in common." Will said.  
  
"Am I your psychiatrist or are we simply having conversations?" Hannibal questioned curious.  
  
"Yes, I think is the answer to that." Will admitted.  
  
"Then having a glass of wine before seeing a patient, I assure you, is very conventional. Particularly for evening appointments." Hannibal said.  
  
"How long have you been seeing a psychiatrist?" Will asked.  
  
"Since I chose to be a psychiatrist. What’s good for the goose..." Hannibal said trailing off.

Will considers that a moment, then he said, "So these are just conversations."

"With your friend, the psychiatrist." Hannibal said. "We do have a higher level of intimacy than the common Doctor Patient relationship. Almost as though we have a daughter together."  
  
"I don’t have a lot of friends." Will said. "Not counting Clarice, she kind of threw herself into my life and broke my walls down."  
  
"Having a better understanding of why people do what they do doesn’t make it any easier to socialize." Hannibal said with a warm smile. "And that certainly does sound like her."  
  
"Is it easy for you?" Will asked.  
  
"I cope." Hannibal said as he pours two glasses of wine, handed one to Will. "Chesapeake Ripper has struck again."

Will took a drink before he said, "It’s not the same guy."  
  
"The victims were all brutalized. What was the brutalization hiding?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Careful, surgical removal and preservation of vital organs." Will said.  
  
"Valuable organs." Hannibal said.  
  
"Organ harvesters?" Will asked.  
  
"Jack Crawford’s looking for a serial killer he can’t seem to catch. It’s a brilliant diversion." Hannibal answered.

Hannibal’s warm smile of support...

\---

The door opened once more and Hannibal spoke to his next patient, "Good evening. Please come in." Clarice was asleep but as soon as she heard Hannibal's voice, she jolted awake and sat up straight, blinking her eyes.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"Nope, just resting my eyes for a few minutes there." She said as she stood up and walked over to him, he took a step to the side as she walked passed him. Hannibal closed the door, sealing them inside the office together.

"You look tired, Clarice. Didn't you get enough asleep?"

"Hm? Oh no because Jack called me as such an ungodly hour to look at a dead man in a bathtub with my mentor." Clarice said. "Who in turn had me use my 'ability' with him so I can 'see' how the man died which wasn't pleasant." She shivered as she slipped out of her leather jacket, exposing her black button up dress shirt that was tucked into her dark blue denim jeans.

"Will does seem to baby you sometimes." Hannibal mused. "Why didn't he let you use you ability at the previous crime scenes?"

Clarice is silent as she looked around the office, choosing her answer, "Because he didn't want me to bring anything back like he did." 

"And did you?" Hannibal asked her as he watched her from his spot in front of the door.

"No, at least it didn't feel like I did." Clarice answered truthfully.

Hannibal was silent at first as he watched her closely before he asked, "Do you still hear the lambs, Clarice?"

Clarice is silent then she nodded her head, "Yes, in my dreams...and sometimes when I am awake."

She wandered over to the same table where the doctor standing behind her had took the life of another trainee, Hannibal watched as she briefly glanced at the drawings there before she turned to face him.

"About the dinner that you surprised on me." Clarice said. "I'll basically eat anything expect for lamb, I haven't been able to stomach the smell since that..." She trailed off.

"I understand." Hannibal said with a smile.

Clarice smiled at him widely, unguarded and freely given as she said, "You know what? It's kind of freeing to know that someone else knows what's wrong with me and understands why I don't like lambs." She laughed. "I hated Lamb Chop, you know the little sock lamb puppet, when I was young it traumatized me even more."

Hannibal felt like she was starting to open up to him since she had freely admitted that to him so he felt that it was safe to ask her if she was interested in seeing him for an opera or two.

"Clarice, do you like opera?" Hannibal asked.

Clarice looked at him and said, "I've never been there, my adopted mother never took me...she claimed that they'd put me to sleep." 

"Would you like to go to one?"

She is silent as she eyed him in a curious manner before she said, hesitantly, "I thought psychiatrists are supposed to have a strict rule about not dating their patients or seeing them outside the office. Since it would be a bad idea to get that close to each other, it would be bad for both patient and doctor."

It wasn't a 'no' so he could work with it, he would get a straight answer from her.

"Sometimes but are we not friends, Clarice?" Hannibal asked her with a smile.

Clarice blinked at him in surprise before she said, "So you ask your female friends to go with you to see the opera? It always seemed like a sort of thing men did with their wives or lovers."

"Did you learn that from you adopted mother, Clarice?"

"Yes." Clarice answered then she sighed heavily. "I'll have to think about it...if that's alright with you, Doctor Lecter?" She looked at him, hesitantly almost shyly.

Hannibal allowed his smile to widen, cherishing the soon to be victory. He could see that she was going to say yes after she finished thinking about it, he could see it on her face and in her eyes.

"Of course, I don't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable." He said warmly.

Clarice smiled in a grateful manner and said. "Thank you."

Now all she had to do was to call her adopted mother to see if the woman could help her find dresses suitable for the opera..

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I was thinking that Hannibal (as the Ripper) should leave like little love notes at his crime scenes to her...what do you all think? So that it'll give her a chance to talk to Hannibal longer.

**Sorbet Part 2**

**HANNIBAL’S HOME**

Hannibal’s fingers walk through the business cards until they find one Andrew Caldwell, Independent Medical Examiner. He plucked it out. Hannibal’s fingers find a recipe and pluck it out of the file, as well. He considered the recipe, pleased with his selection.

**DESOLATE ROAD**

A sedan chugged in fits and starts, rattling and clunking as it finally died, coasting to the side of the road. Andrew Caldwell heaved an annoyed sigh as he attempted to restart his car engine to absolutely no avail. Andrew Caldwell got out of his car and looked underneath. His punctured gas tank is dripping the last drops of fuel. He stood, kicked his car, screaming at the night. Then headlights pierce the dark as they approach. The mystery car slowed to a stop, pulling in behind Andrew Caldwell’s stalled vehicle. After a moment, Hannibal stepped out.  
  
"Do you need help?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I must’ve hit a rock or something. Gouged my gas tank." Andrew said. "Have we met before?

**BUS - EARLY MORNING**

Light flicker on outside the bus as the first shift of drivers are reporting for duty. A bus driver climbs up the stairs and stops short when she sees someone on board.  
The silhouette of a man in the back seat. Only the silhouette of his legs are on one side of the aisle, and the silhouette of his head and shoulders is on the other. Strung across the aisle is a thick rope of intestine.

**HANNIBAL’S HOME - KITCHEN**

The freezer opened, a cool fog spilling out. Hannibal placed a carefully preserved heart and kidneys inside and shut the freezer door...

**B.A.U. - MORGUE**

Andrew Caldwell under a sheet in two parts rolled out of the freezer, next to Jason Murray, the man from the hotel room. Beverly and Brian hover over the morgue drawer as Jimmy wheeled out Jason Murray from his own freezer. Will and Clarice entered. Zeller doesn’t give him a chance to say hello.

"You slammed that door in my face." Brian said.  
  
"It was more of a gentle swing." Will said.  
  
"It actually was fairly gentle." Jimmy said.

"I can show you the difference between slamming and swinging the door gently if you want." Clarice offered eagerly which earned her small smiles from Jimmy,Beverly and Will.

Brian shoots them a look before indicating the two halves of Andrew Caldwell, "Glad you’re here. Not only did the Ripper take his kidneys...he took his heart..."

~~~

Hannibal sliced the kidneys with a blade. He removed the membrane around the muscle of the heart.

~~~~

"Which he wanted to do in the hotel but was interrupted before he could." Brian continued.  
  
"Ripper wasn’t in the hotel. Someone else was." Will said.  
  
"You still think he was ripping that heart out to save a life?" Brian asked.  
  
"Yes." Will answered sure of himself.

Beverly studies the crime scene photo of Andrew Caldwell, sitting across the aisle from himself.  
  
"The Ripper painted this picture, for sure. In big, broad strokes." Beverly said.  
  
"Could both victims’ organs have been harvested for transplant?" Will asked.  
  
"Could put the organs on a ventilator long enough to coordinate the donation." Jimmy answered.

"In the hotel both the victim’s abdominal aorta and inferior vena cava -- the kidney’s in-and-out for blood, were entirely removed." Brian said.  
  
"They’re like USB cables. You keep them intact for an easy reconnect." Beverly said.  
  
"Did a lot of damage taking it out, probably why he needed a new one." Brian said.  
  
"Was Mr. Caldwell’s heart and kidney disconnected for easy reconnects?" Will asked.  
  
"Yup." Brian said.

Will mulls that over, then he said, "We should talk to people who were on organ donor lists then dropped off without getting an organ."  
  
"Or dying." Jimmy quipped with a nod of an agreement of Clarice.  
  
"The other Ripper victims? Organs and their USB cables missing?" Will asked.  
  
"Some are inconclusive because of the degree of mutilation, but yeah, that’s the way of the Ripper rips." Brian said.  
  
"Two different killers, same agenda?" Beverly asked.  
  
"Is the organ harvester disguising his work as the crimes of a serial killer or is the serial killer disguising his work as the crimes of an organ harvester?" Jimmy asked.

"The Chesapeake Ripper wants to perform. Every brutal choice has elegance, grace. His mutilations hide the true nature of his crimes." Clarice was the one that answered then she looked at Will to see if she got it right.

"That's right, Clarice." Will praised with a smile.

She returned his smile.

**HANNIBAL’S HOME - KITCHEN - NIGHT**

A blade quickly sliced into a blood red tomato, quickly and decoratively carved it into a semi-blooming rose. Hannibal placed the rose/tomato in the sizzling pan with eleven others, a simmering fragrant blossom that loses its petals in one smooth whisk of the wooden spoon. Alana dicing onions, not quite as handy as Hannibal with her knife skills, but skilled nonetheless. There’s almost a sibling warmth to their dynamic, but something more softly vibrated just beneath the surface.  
  
"I’ve been unspeakably rude. I haven’t offered you a drink." Hannibal said as he moved to the refrigerator to retrieve a beverage.  
  
"I appreciate beer more than wine." Alana said.  
  
"It’s not what you appreciate. It’s that you appreciate. A compromise. Beer brewed in a wine barrel. Two years. I bottled it myself." Hannibal said.

Alana took a swig, then she swished the beer briefly before swallowing.  
  
"A Cabernet Sauvignon wine barrel?" Alana questioned.  
  
"I love your pallet." Hannibal said.  
  
"I love your beer. I taste oak." She said as she takes another swig. "What else do I taste in there?"

"I will only answer yes or no." Hannibal said.  
  
"Serving this at your dinner party?" Alana asked.  
  
"No. This is your reserve." Hannibal said.  
  
"My own private reserve? Thank you." Alana said.  
  
"In exchange for Sous-Chef services." Hannibal said then he considers. "I’m curious about something. Are you purposefully avoiding the subject of Will Graham?"  
  
"Absolutely." Alana said.  
  
"Not on my account, I hope. I’m happy to get your perspective." Hannibal said.  
  
"It’s on Jack Crawford’s account. I don’t want information about Will I shouldn’t have as his friend. It’s not even about Will. Jacob Hobbs was a trial run. Jack’s obsessed with the Chesapeake Ripper and he’s grooming Will to catch him." Alana stated.  
  
"And I sincerely hope he does. Did Jack ask you to profile the Ripper?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Not since I consulted on the case with Miriam before she disappeared." Alana said.  
  
"Ah. Crawford’s trainee. Very sad." Hannibal said.  
  
"You had me examining Ph.D. candidates that week." Alana said.

"I’m grateful you were examining Ph.D. students and not the Ripper." Hannibal said. "You realize those candidates thought we were having an affair." Then he added with a smile. "Why didn’t we?"  
  
"You were already having an affair. Will does that, too, you know." Alana said.  
  
"What? Have affairs?" Hannibal asked almost innocently.  
  
"Flirtatiously change the subject. You have that pathology in common." Alana said. "I've seen him to do with Clarice once or twice, she plays along with him then she turns it back to her question...she's amazing."   
  
"Or we just have you in common. I recall even before I met Will Graham, you never spoke about him." Hannibal said silently seething over the fact that Will had flirted with his student in order to change the subject and that she had played along.  
  
"Probably because I just want everybody to leave him alone." Alana said.

"Did that include Clarice?" Hannibal asked smoothly, in an off handed manner.

"Clarice got to him before I could even warn her about him." Alana admitted. "She treats him gently, she doesn't allow him to withdraw into himself too much but she doesn't pressure him too much out of his comfort zone."

**B.A.U. NIGHT**

Empty. After hours. The door opens and Jack enters, he takes in the silence as his eyes drift to the morgue drawers. There’s a body under the sheet. As he focuses on the drawer from his dream. The same drawer that contained Miriam's arm. In his mind, the distance sound of her ringing cell phone filters up through the cracks in his subconscious, then just as quickly, fades away into the hum of the air conditioning. Jack turns back around, walks purposefully across the room, toward the specific drawer that contained Miriam's arm. Pulling the drawer open. He glances inside to see that the drawer is empty.

The room darkens behind him, the body under the sheet sits, the sheet sliding to the floor as the Body Stands. It is revealed to be Will. Corpse gray with an autopsy Y-incision stitched into his chest, Will is not only dead, but missing the same arm as Miriam. Jack turned to see that Will is gone. The light levels are normal. It was the theater of Jack’s mind revealing his fears. As he closes the morgue drawer...

**HANNIBAL’S HOME**

Rolodex opened and spun to reveal business cards. Hannibal’s fingers walk through business cards until they find one Michelle Vocalson, customer service. Hannibal picked a recipe card. He plucked a recipe card out of his recipe file, pleased with his selection.  
  
Hannibal sliced into a carefully preserved heart and kidneys inside and shut the freezer door...

~~~~~  
  
Hannibal’s fingers walk through the business cards until they find one Darrel Ledgerwood, General Manager. Hannibal’s finger walk through the recipes until find a card. He plucked the recipe card out of the file.  
  
Hannibal sliced a carefully preserved liver and lungs.

~~~~  
Hannibal’s fingers walk through the recipe/business cards until they find one Christopher Ward, IT consultant. He plucked Christopher Ward’s business card. 

The freezer opened, a cool fog spilling out. Hannibal placed a carefully preserved stomach, pancreas, liver and spleen inside and shut the freezer door.

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - MORNING**

His anger and frustration barely contained. The bodies displayed on two open morgue drawers to reveal three more bodies on gurneys. Jimmy, Brian, Clarice and Will studying corpses.  
  
"They’re all missing different organs. We were looking at waiting lists for a heart or kidney. Now..." Jimmy said.

Clarice is standing a little to the side of Jimmy, watching him work.

~~~  
Hannibal prepared kidneys, hearts, livers, stomachs, pancreases and lungs.

~~~~

"We’ve got kidneys, hearts, livers, stomachs, pancreases, lungs." Jimmy said. "One of them is missing a spleen. Who the hell gets a spleen transplant?"

"I have no idea, Jimmy ol' boy." Clarice said.

~~~~

A spleen rested on top of the blender blades until they whirl.

~~~

  
"They graft on a little extra spleen cause of increased risk of sepsis." Brian said.  
  
"It was rhetorical." Jimmy said.  
  
"Intestines were the only thing missing from this body." Will said.  
  
"So either there’s someone out there with Crohn’s disease and short bowels or Ripper’s making sausage." Brian said.

And sausages was off her list of the few food that she eats, thanks to Brian...

~~~

An open end of the missing intestines is placed over spout of an extruder. Hannibal hand cranks the sausage maker, grinding the organ meats into the intestine casting and indeed making sausage.

~~~~  
  
"He’s selling the organs to someone." Jack said.  
  
"We don’t even know if these organs are being transplanted in the U.S. They could be exported to China." Brian said.  
  
"Chinese have a cultural taboo that restricts voluntary organ donation. You got to die with all your parts or you dishonor mom and dad." Jimmy said.  
  
"Killing somebody else for parts doesn’t break that taboo." Brian said.  
  
"I know. I was agreeing with you." Jimmy said.

Jack stares at Zeller and Price and the banter dies quick. Even Clarice shifted at his stare, going to stand behind Will using him as a human shield. Her mentor shot her an amused look over his shoulder.  
  
"How many killers?" Jack asked.  
  
"Two. Possibly three." Will answered.  
  
"And you’re confident one of them is the Chesapeake Ripper?" Jack asked.  
  
"At least one of them." Will asked.  
  
"Are they working together?" Jack asked.  
  
"I don’t know." Will said.  
  
"Window’s closing, Will. How is he choosing his victims?" Jack said.  
  
"He’s met all of them before. Only way he could tissue type them." Will answered.

**GROCERY STORE**

Clarice was looking at the different types of cheese as she debated about which one she should get when she sensed rather than saw someone appear next to her.

"Either cheese would be fine, Clarice." Said a very familiar voice.

She jolted in surprise and almost dropped the cheese as her head whipped to the side to look at Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

"I didn't mean to surprise you, I thought you knew it was me."

Clarice chuckled sheepishly and said, "No...I mean I knew someone was next to him but I didn't know it was you." She smiled at him as she lifted the cheese. "I was distracted by the cheese." She placed both cheeses down and turned to face him as she heft the basket that she carried on her arm a little higher.

Hannibal looked into her basket and said, "Crackers...a bottle of wine...and grapes. Are you expecting company?"

"And don't forget the cheese, Doctor but no, I am not expecting company." Clarice said. "This is for later, I have a brief break until my next class and I want to get some shopping done before then." 

He was pleased to hear that, "So what cheese will you be getting?"

"Mmm, Gouda, it goes will with the red grapes that I have." Clarice said as she picked up a Gouda cheese and placed it into her basket before she faced Hannibal. "I'll see you later, Doctor Lecter." 

"Good bye, Clarice." Hannibal said with a smile as he watched Clarice walk away from him.

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE**

Hannibal opened the door and speaks to Franklyn, "Good morning. Please come in."  
  
An inscrutable Hannibal sat across from Franklyn.  
  
"I discovered we’re Cheese-Folk." Franklyn said. "I saw you shopping for cheese. I didn’t say hello because you seemed so uncomfortable last time I did and you were talking to a very pretty lady."  
  
"This city is very small." Hannibal mused. He ignored the comment about Clarice, he didn't want to talk to him about her.

Too small if he seemed to be running into Franklyn though seeing and talking to Clarice was a nice surprise and something he would want to happen again.

"Jose’s has the best selection of artisanal cheeses in Baltimore, city or county. Cheese is a passion. Ever hear of Tyromancy?" Franklyn said.  
  
"Divination by cheese." Hannibal said.  
  
"It was my gateway to cheese. A magic 8 ball you get to eat." Franklyn said. "Tobias doesn’t eat dairy."

Hannibal considered that a moment, then asked, "Do you desire Tobias sexually?"  
  
"No. God, no. And I’m not being defensive. I was in a Fraternity. I tried things. Just not my brand." Franklyn said denying it.  
  
"You care deeply about Tobias despite differences. He’s your best friend, but you’re not his." Hannibal said.  
  
"It’s sad when you say it like that." Franklyn said.  
  
"You often worry about being alone?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I worry about hurting. Being alone has a dull ache to it, doesn’t it?" Franklyn asked.  
  
"It can." Hannibal admitted.  
  
Hannibal entered to greet his patients, but no one is there.

Dr. Lecter sat at his desk, scribbling in a patient journal, catching up on notes from the last session. He glanced at his appointment book, which has Will and Clarice scheduled for a 6:30 and 7:00 appointments, which they evidently has missed. Hannibal considered where they might be.

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL**

Will is sitting alone at a table covered in crime scene photos. Hannibal entered the room, approaching Will.  
  
"Will?" Hannibal called. Will blinked and glanced up to see Hannibal, who smiled. "I’ve a 24-hour cancellation policy."

Will immediately remembering, "What time is it?"

"Nearly 8 o’clock." Hannibal answered smoothly. "Where's Clarice?"  
  
"I’m sorry." Will apologized. "I have no idea, she was here..."

Clarice's voice came from behind the long row of desks, "She's suffering from back pain because she was a big dummy for thinking that these chairs will be comfortable." She sat up and rubbed her lower back. "Good evening, Doctor and sorry."

Hannibal smiled at the sight of her and said, "No apology necessary."  
  
"I must have fallen asleep. Was I sleepwalking?" Will asked softly to Hannibal since his protege didn't know that he was sleep walking.  
  
"You weren’t present. Your eyes were open, staring into middle-distance." Hannibal answered just as softly.  
  
"I felt like I was asleep. I need to stop sleeping altogether. Best way to avoid bad dreams." Will said.

Hannibal glanced at the crime scene photos on the desk, "I can see why you have bad dreams." Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Clarice stand up and walk over to them stretching.  
  
"What do you see, Doctor?" Will asked.  
  
"Sum up the Ripper in so many words?" Hannibal asked before studying the pictures. "Words are living things. They have personality, point of view, agenda."  
  
They’re pack hunters." Will said.

"Displaying one’s enemy after death has its appeal in many cultures." Hannibal said.  
  
"These aren’t the Ripper’s enemies. These are pests he’s swatted." Will replied.  
  
"The reward for their cruelty?" Hannibal asked.

"He’s not bothered by cruelty. The reward is for undignified behavior. These dissections are to disgrace them. It’s a public shaming." Clarice answered this time, she crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at the photos.  
  
"Takes their organs away because in his mind they don’t deserve them?" Hannibal asked.

Will answered this time, "In some way." Hannibal couldn't help but notice that the mentor and protege seem to be very in-tuned to each other being able to know what the other is going to say.

Hannibal picked up a picture of Miriam Lass, "Jack Crawford’s trainee?"  
  
"She’s not like the other victims. The Chesapeake Ripper had no reason to humiliate Miriam Lass." Will said.  
  
"Seems to me, he was humiliating someone when he cut off her arm." Hannibal said.  
  
"He was humiliating Jack Crawford." Will said.

Clarice nodded her head in agreement.

**B.A.U. - JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE Night**

Beverly leaned across Jack Crawford to his keyboard. Jack rolled clear as Beverly took the keyboard and worked.

"I’ve been looking for the kill truck. A van or S.U.V. but it was a whole lot easier than that." Beverly said as she crouches as she calls up the F.B.I.’s VICAP system, she chooses a folder and clicks. A few more clicks and the monitor screen fills with a fisheye lens surveilance video of ambulances and fire engines outside of an upscape hotel.  
  
"What am I looking at?" Jack asked.  
  
"Security camera off an ATM machine across from the hotel." Beverly answered.  
  
"Kill truck?" Jack asked.  
  
"It’s a private ambulance." Beverly answered.  
  
"The city works with a dozen private ambulance companies." Jack said.  
  
"Including Medi-Now. But not as a first responder. A first responder driving away from the emergency." Beverly said.

Jack gets out of his chair and offers it to Beverly, "Take a seat. You’ve earned it."

Beverly smiles and sits, clicking again. The surveillance video zooms incapturing the Medi-Now ambulance mid-getaway.  
  
"Ambulance would be a smart place to perform surgery. If the cops show up, blend in and drive away." Beverly said.  
  
"Where’s Will Graham?" Jack asked.

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL - NIGHT**

Jack walked into Will’s classroom to find him mid-conversation with Hannibal with Clarice standing between the two men.  
  
"Dr. Lecter. What a nice surprise." Jack said to the doctor then looked to Will and Clarice. "We have a lead on the Ripper." Then to Hannibal. "Care to help us catch the Ripper?"  
  
"How could I refuse?" Hannibal said his curiosity piqued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm, now that I am thinking about it...should there be something almost romantic between Clarice and Will?


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whose the man that bumped into her? Mmm, you'll just have to wait and see ;)

**Sorbet Part 3**

**MEDI-NOW AMBULANCE GARAGE - DAY**  

Several bays are occupied by ambulances in various stages of repair. Jack and Beverly flank a 40-something garage manager as they move through the garage. Hannibal, Clarice and Will follow close behind, listening intently. Clarice's hands were in her pocket as she walked between the two men, easily dwarfed by their taller frames. A man was walking towards them with his head down to hide his features and walked between her and Hannibal, separating them from each other and bumping into Clarice.

"Sorry." Clarice said as she turned slightly to apologize but the man kept walking, ignoring her.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes as he watched the man walk away, Clarice shrugged her shoulders and started to walk as Will quietly asked her if she was okay to which she nodded with a smile.  
  
"That ambulance isn’t in rotation. It hasn’t been out of the shed." The manager said.  
  
"Surveillance footage says she has." Jack said.  
  
"Nobody signed her out. My road sheet has her down for repairs." The manager said.  
  
"Who signed her in for repairs?" Jack asked.

He flips a page on the clip board and said, "Devon Silvestri. He’s one of our part time drivers."  
  
"Does he want to be a doctor?" Will asked  
  
"He’s taking the MCATs." The man said.

They finally arrive at an empty ambulance bay.  
  
"Mister Silvestri working today?" Jack asked.

"He’s not on the schedule." The garage manager said.

Will quietly mentions to Jack, Clarice and Beverly as Hannibal eavesdrops, "If he’s not working with the Ripper, he still needs a kidney."

Beverly turns to Garage Manager, pelting him with questions, "Is there G.P.S. on that ambulance?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm." The garage manager said.  
  
"Encrypted messaging or remote tracking?" Beverly asked.  
  
"We can’t afford that kind of hardware. We use consumer grade." The garage manager said.  
  
"Digital trunk system." Beverly said.  
  
"Yeah." The man said.  
  
"Jack, if the ambulance radio is on, I can use a DF sweep to find it." Beverly said.

Hannibal and Will exchange a glance, impressed.

"Nice one, Beverly." Clarice praised with a smile.

"This is very educational." Hannibal said.  
  
The missing ambulance sits quietly in isolation. Although the cab is dark, a light burns brightly in the back windows. A circle of F.B.I. agents silently tightens around the ambulance. Several F.B.I. S.U.V.s slowly roll up behind the Agents. Jack appears with a shotgun. An F.B.I. agent moves forward with a crowbar tool, ready to force the ambulance doors open on Jack’s signal. Jack gives the signal.  
  
Devon Silvestri, a nervous man in his mid-to-late 20s, is mid-surgery. A patient/victim is face down on the make-shift operating table, Devon Silvestri’s hands inside him. The ambulance doors behind him spring open to reveal Jack Crawford pointing his shotgun directly at him.

"Show me your hands." Jack ordered.  
  
"I can’t." Devon said.  
  
"Show me your hands." Jack repeated.  
  
"He’ll die." Devon said.

Jack quickly assesses that Devon is mid-surgery, calling out, "Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal, Will, Clarice and Beverly emerging from the F.B.I. S.U.V.s. Hannibal sprints ahead hearing his name. Without hesitation, Hannibal climbs inside the Ambulance.  
  
"He was removing the kidney. Poorly. I can re-attach it." Hannibal said.  
  
"Do it." Jack said. Hannibal sticks his hands into the patient/victim’s back, taking the wheel, as it were, working quickly. "Do you have it?"  
  
"I’ve got it." Hannibal answered.  
  
"Silvestri, show me your hands." Jack ordered. Devon Silvestri raises his bloody, gloved hands, stepping away from his patient/victim, giving Hannibal room. "Step out of the vehicle. On the ground. Hands behind your head."

The F.B.I. Agents swarm Devon Silvestri, searching him, cuffing him and hauling him violently to his feet. Will and Clarice watch Hannibal perform impromptu surgery to save the patient/victim’s life. Will’s inscrutable expression as he observed...

 **HANNIBAL’S HOME**  
  
Three Sous-Chefs and two servers work at a steady clip throughout the cooking space as Hannibal mans the Centrifuge. It’s filled with blood extract from a living creature. A switch click sends the blood whirling, a crimson tornado.  
  
"I have a butcher who carries sow’s blood. Centrifugate, separate the matter from the water. Creates a transparent liquid. Serve with tomatoes in suspension. Everybody will love the sweet taste." Hannibal said. "Are you sure you can’t stay?

Hannibal is speaking to Will and Clarice, still wearing their coats but the former carrying a nice bottle of wine.  
  
"I don’t think I’d be good company." Will answered truthfully.

"Crowds make me nervous so I won't be good company." Clarice said.  
  
"I disagree. But before you go, what came of Mr. Silvestri’s donor?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"You saved his life." Will answered.  
  
"Been a long time since I used a scalpel on anything but a pencil." Hannibal mused.

Will considers that briefly, then asks, "Why did you stop being a surgeon?"  
  
"I killed someone. More accurately, I couldn’t save someone. But it felt like killing them." Hannibal answered.  
  
"You were an Emergency Room surgeon. It has to happen from time to time." Will said.  
  
"It happened one time too many. I transferred my passion for anatomy into the culinary arts. I fix minds instead of bodies and no one’s died as a result of my therapy." Hannibal said.  
  
"I should go. I’ve got a date with the Chesapeake Ripper." Will said.

Clarice linked her arm through his as she teasing said, "And with me too."  
  
"Or is it Rippers?" Hannibal asked pushing down his anger at the sight of her teasing the other man in front of him.  
  
"Devon Silvestri was harvesting organs but not with the Chesapeake Ripper. No connection between them." Will said.  
  
"Jack must be devastated." Hannibal said.

Will considered that then said, "Enjoy the wine." Then he and Clarice walked out, arm in arm.

 

**F.B.I. ACADEMY**

Jack’s back as he studies the crime wall featuring the Chesapeake Ripper’s handiwork. Jack, briefcase in hand, walks through the corridor, not so much as a glance at the Morgue.

**HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT**

Mrs. Komeda applauded elegantly, yet enthusiastically, "Bravo."  
  
Hannibal stood at the head of his table raising a glass of wine a magnificent feast. Ten guests, including Mr. and Mrs. Komeda, applaud at the table. Alana is among those applauding their gracious host. Hannibal raised a hand to cease the applause.  
  
"Before we begin, you must all be warned: Nothing here is vegetarian." Hannibal said with a smile.

**Clarice's House**

She threw her keys down as she shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it onto the chair nearby before she walked to the window. The trainee had just gotten home from her 'date' with Will, not really a date but she still enjoyed the time she had gotten to spend with her teacher. 

She looked down when she heard a meow and felt something brush against her legs, smiling when she saw Salem. Clarice kneeled down and picked him up, nuzzling her face against his fur, "Hey, buddy..did you miss your mommy?"

Salem meowed again, vigorously rubbed his cheeks against her chin.

"I missed you too." Clarice said. "Let's have dinner and then get ready for bed. I am tired."

Clarice had a quick but filling dinner then she gets ready for bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of hard to make a vegetarian meal when you can't use...animals.
> 
> I have an idea going through my head now...I'll tell you in the next chapter!!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I was thinking that Hannibal should met Clarice at an opera with a man that her adopted mother had set her up with. Just so that Hannibal can secretly scare him away hehe.
> 
> Danielle likes to dress Clarice as a girl, Clarice would wear slacks and/or jeans and a dress shirt and that's it.
> 
> So this is what Clarice is forced to wear https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/45/fd/c5/45fdc5917b429dce8f3e0afdba3004d6.jpg

**Fromage Part 1**

**BEDELIA’S HOME OFFICE - WAITING ROOM**

The door opened and Bedelia, a beautiful woman in her 40’s speaks to her patient, "Hello. Please come in." Her patient is Hannibal Lecter.  
  
Hannibal sat opposite Bedelia, who doesn’t mince words, "This always goes better if I’m perfectly honest with you."  
  
"What would be the point otherwise." Hannibal said.  
  
"Well, one of us has to be honest." Bedelia said.  
  
"I’m honest." Hannibal said.  
  
"Not perfectly." Bedelia said.  
  
"As honest as anyone." Hannibal said.  
  
"Not really. I have conversations with a version of you and hope the actual you gets what he needs." Bedelia said.  
  
"A version of me?" Hannibal echoed.  
  
"Naturally, I respect its meticulous construction, but you are wearing a very well tailored person suit." Bedelia said.

Hannibal good-natured teased her, "Do you refer to me as Person Suit with your psychiatrist friends?"  
  
"I don’t discuss patients with my psychiatrist friends, especially since I only have one patient who chose to ignore my retirement." Bedelia said.  
  
"A patient who wears a Person Suit." Hannibal said.  
  
"I can still see the shape of you, but you’re elegantly obstructed. So really, it’s less of a person suit and more of a human veil." Bedelia said.  
  
"I prefer we call it a human shield." Hannibal said.  
  
"That must be lonely." Bedelia said.  
  
"I have friends. And the opportunities for friends." Hannibal said thinking about Will and Clarice though he didn't know if he could call them friends.  
  
"On the other side of the veil." Bedelia said.  
  
"You and I are friendly." Hannibal said.  
  
"You’re my patient and my colleague, not my friend. When your hour is up I’ll pour you a glass of wine, nevertheless you’ll be drinking it on the other side of the veil." Bedelia said.  
  
"Why do you bother?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I see enough of you to see the truth of you. And I like you." Bedelia said. Hannibal smiled, liking her as she opens a small wine closet. "Red or white."  
  
"I think something pink, don’t you?" Hannibal said.

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - NIGHT**

Will lies with his dogs, enjoying three fingers of juice. The space heater in the fireplace emits a warm halo around the pack as Will works over the innards of the boat motor. Will stops working, listening. He eyes the dogs, they don’t react, going about their leisure. Will returns to work. A distant, almost imperceptible cry. Will stops again. He glances at the dogs, they still don’t react. Another whimper. Just as far away, but louder. Whatever it is, it’s desperate. Will stands, shrugs on a coat and grabs a flashlight.  
  
Will walks onto the front porch, closing the door so the dogs can’t follow him. He listens. An even more frantic cry. Will hurries off the porch in the direction of the distress.  
  
Will wades into the darkness, his flashlight growing fainter. The crying is more intense now. It rises and falls, growing louder and softer as Will searches, wincing at the horrible sound of the high-pitched, fear-induced whines. Then a sudden quiet. Will holds his breath, listening, shining his flashlight in the direction of the last, sad whimper. Nothing. He stands there a moment, unsure what to do.

**Clarice Starling's House-Night**

 

Clarice opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling, hazily before she blinked and her eyes cleared then she sat up and looked around. She reached up with her hands to touch her cheeks to find them wet with tears, she lowered her hands with a frown.

She had never woken up from a dream that calmly before, it frightened her even more than her normal routine of waking up.

**CHORDOPHONE STRING SHOP**

A discordant cello note strikes and  A pre-teen cello player strikes the discordant note and his teacher, Tobias (fit, handsome, 30s) winces then politely smiles, encouraging.  
  
"These strings are harder to bow than the regular ones." The boy said.  
  
"You have to learn how to bow authentic strings to better bow strings how they’re made today." Tobias said.  
  
"I should be learning the easy strings first, then the hard ones." The boy said.  
  
"No, you shouldn’t." Tobias said.  
  
"Are they really made from cat guts?" The boy asked.  
  
"Usually sheep or goat. Not always." Tobias said.  
  
The string un-stretches, removed from the cello. The string untwists into sinewy intestinal strands. Bloody heap of intestines are pulled into an open abdominal wound. The abdominal would closed behind a sharp tool.  A bound and gagged man's dead eyes reverse into life as time and motion returns to normal.

The sharp tool slashes intestines spill out of the open wound. The Gagged man muffled a scream as his eyes roll into death. 

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - FIELD - MORNING**

Will trounced through stark, bare branches slicing the early morning sun. The crunch of frost-covered brush. As Will scans the forest floor around him, Alana searching the underbrush, as well.  
  
"If it wasn’t a coyote, the coyotes probably got it. Probably got it even if it was a coyote." Will said.  
  
"You’re not expecting to find it alive, are you?" Alana asked.  
  
"We’ll be lucky to find a paw." Will answered.  
  
"If I knew we were looking for a paw, I’d’ve been looking closer." Alana said.  
  
"I just want to get rid of anything that might attract predators." Will said.  
  
"You invited me over to help you collect animal parts?" Alana asked.

Will shakes his head “no” as he said, "I invited you over on the off chance we find it alive. Hard to wrangle a wounded animal by myself." He then adds, realizing. "Did you think it was a date?"  
  
"Honestly, it never crossed my mind." Alana said.

Will is at first relieved, then almost disappointed, "Why not?"

"You just don’t seem like you date." Alana admitted.

Will good-natured teased her, "Too broken to date."  
  
"You’re not broken. You’re puzzled." Alana said.  
  
"I am puzzled. What’s your excuse?" Will asked.  
  
"For not dating? Why are you assuming I don’t date?" Alana asked.   
  
"Do you?" Will asked.  
  
"No. Feels like something for somebody else. I’m sure I’ll become that somebody some day but right now I think too much." Alana admitted.  
  
"It’s hard to date when you notice everything they do and have a pretty good idea why they do it." Will said.  
  
"Worse than dating a psychiatrist is being a psychiatrist dating." Alana said.  
  
"Are you going to try to think less or wait until it happens naturally?" Will asked her.  
  
"I haven’t thought about it." Alana responded. Will stops, puzzling over the icy underbrush around them. "See something?"

Will glances around, making certain before he answers, "No, actually. I don’t even see any tracks. Except the ones we made." He considered that...

**Clarice's House**

"Wakey, wakey Clari Bear." A gentle voice said from above her.

"Mmm, five more minutes..." Clarice sleepily mumbled as she rolled over.

"Nope, time to get up darling." Then her blanket and sheets were rudely yanked off, she then felt a sharp slap on her ass which caused her to wake up completely and look over her shoulder into the smiling face of her adopted mother, Danielle Darby.

"Aww, mum...I didn't get enough sleep last night or this morning." Clarice whined a little as she buried her face in her pillow, remembering what had happened sometime this early morning. 

Danielle rolled her eyes and popped her adopted daughter on the bum, "Get up, I got you some new clothes." 

That caused Clarice to sit up quickly as she looked at the older British woman in open horror, "What?"

"I got you new clothes." Danielle repeated almost casually. "Especially since you called me to ask what dresses would be nice to wear for the opera." 

Clarice groaned at that, it was her fault that she got woken up she should have known better than to call Danielle to tell her than she wanted to go look at dresses because the British woman loved dressing Clarice up. Clarice's nickname as a child was 'China Doll' and therefore treated her like a living doll.

"Up, up!" Danielle said as she clapped her hands.

"Fine, fine...I'm up." Clarice said as she crawled out of bed and stood up, stretching and yawning before she followed her mother out.

"Ta-dah! Here are the two dresses that I think would look lovely on you!" Danielle said as she showed the two dresses that she had bought.

Clarice stared in silence at the two dresses and said, "Um...they're strapless."

"Yes, they are...good eye."

"Why?"

"Because you have lovely looking collarbones and shoulders you need to flaunt the goods if you have them, darling!" Danielle said.

The young woman stared at her adopted mother before she heaved a sigh and said, "Fine, I'll wear them...I need to get to work so I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"I put some clothes out for you."

Clarice groaned at that, she knew her mother's taste of clothes was way different from hers.

"Alright, thanks." Clarice said instead not even wanting to argue with her about it.

Danielle blew her a kiss before she walked out of the room, leaving Clarice to stare at the dresses before shaking her head and going to get ready.

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - WAITING ROOM - DAY**

The door opened and Hannibal speaks to his next patient, "Good morning. Please come in." Franklyn is waiting.  
  
An inscrutable Hannibal sat across from Franklyn in his office.  
  
"I have a lot of respect for you and what you do. Since I can’t be your friend, or you’re not comfortable with that, I found myself looking at my friends through your eyes. Imagining what you’d say about them. What your diagnosis would be." Franklyn said.  
  
"So you become the psychoanalyst?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Little bit. Or I become you." Franklyn said.  
  
"That’s an insightful observation." Hannibal said.  
  
"You helped me get to know myself." Franklyn said.  
  
"Who are you psychoanalyzing?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"My friend Tobias." Franklyn said. "I Googled psychopaths. Went down the checklist and was a little surprised how many boxes I checked."

Hannibal smiles at Franklyn’s internet psychoanalysis, "Why were you so curious to Google?"

"He’s been saying very dark things and then saying just kidding. A lot. Started to seem kinda crazy." Franklyn said. "Or is that like saying retarded now. Are you allowed to say crazy?"  
  
"Psychopaths are not crazy. They’re fully aware of what they do and the consequences of those actions." Hannibal said.  
  
"Would you diagnose somebody like Tobias as a psychopath." Franklyn said.  
  
"I might diagnose him with an antisocial personality disorder." Hannibal said.  
  
"What kind of disorder is that? Are you supposed to diagnose other people in front of me? Or would you rather just talk about me?" Franklyn asked.  
  
"Not at all." Hannibal answered.  
  
"Are you bored with me?" Franklyn asked.  
  
"This is your hour, Franklyn. We will talk about whatever you would like to talk about." Hannibal said.  
  
"I want to talk about Tobias. Maybe you can help me analyze him." Franklyn said.  
  
"I’m not analyzing your friend. I’m analyzing your perception of him. May help you know yourself better. You could be projecting onto him what you consider to be your flaws." Hannibal said.

Franklyn is suddenly haunted by a thought and said, "Does that mean I’m a psychopath?"

"You’re not a psychopath. Although you may be attracted to them." Hannibal said.

Franklyn considered that, clueless to the entirety of its meaning.

**CONCERT HALL - AUDITORIUM**

A dead man's vacant stare. his mouth is agape, broken teeth, head held upright by the neck of a violin jammed down his gullet. His throat is open, cut horizontally below the Adam’s apple and vertically down the middle splayed open as if for dissection, the flaps of flesh affixed to metal rings.

The Dead Man sat in a kneeling ergonomic chair duct-taped to a back brace that held him in an upright position. The Dead Man is alone center stage, the theater is empty save for Will and Jack. They had a funny reaction when they saw Clarice's pencil skirt and high heeled look but she sharply shook her head. She wasn't in the mood to answer any questions about her new look.

Her legs were freezing.

They walk down the aisle, approaching the corpse, curious. Various police officers, F.B.I., Brian, Jimmy and Beverly stand near the lobby doors, observing. Those three stared at Clarice with slacked jawed expressions, she shook her head at their looks killing any comments before they even said anything.   
  
"Victim is Douglas Wilson, member of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra. Brass section. Trombone player." Jack explained.  
  
"Low brass. Was he any good?" Will asked.  
  
"He was killed sometime after his last performance. Blunt force trauma to the back of the head." Jack said.  
  
"His killer brought him back here to put on a show." Will said.  
  
"Got some idea about who’d do this?" Jack asked.

Clarice had handed aspirin bottle to Will when he motioned to her purse. He shook two aspirin out of bottle, tosses them back before he handed the bottle back to Clarice who took it back and placed it into her purse. 

"I may be courting that feeling that precedes an idea." Will said.  
  
"Seems like it’s getting easier for you to look." Jack said.  
  
"I tell myself it’s purely an intellectual exercise." Will said.  
  
"In the narrow definition of forensics, that’s what it is." Jack said.  
  
"But it’s not getting easier, Jack. I shake it off and keep looking." Will said.  
  
"Good. You shake it off." Jack said. "You’re all wired. I’ll come back in when you tell me."

Jack turned and climbed down from the stage. A police officer pulled the auditorium doors closed behind Jack. The other set of doors are closed by another local police officer. Will and Clarice are now alone. She crossed the stage and circled the Dead Man. She took a breath, exhaled, then closed her eyes just as Will does.

A pendulum swung in the darkness of Clarice’s mind, keeping rhythm with her heart beat.  
  
_She walked backwards, away from the Dead Man, toward the lip of the stage. She climbed down and sat in the front row. The pendulum is now outside Clarice’s head. It swung, bringing down the house lights, plunging the seats of the auditorium into relative darkness._

_A dark, indistinct space. Only Clarice, Will and the Dead Man. The butterfly wings of the throat wound close, wrapping around neck and sealing the flesh together._

_The pendulum stopped swinging._  
  
_Clarice watched the bound and gagged man secured to the chair. The soon-to-be-Dead Man struggled against his bindings as Clarice emerged from the darkness and brought down a mallet on the back of his head, knocking his head violently forward._

_Will's voice broke through her trance-like state, "I open the throat from the outside. Three incisions, one to bleed him, second to open the trachea and a third to expose the vocal chords." Clarice made the incisions, slicing out a disc of trachea. "I open the throat from inside with the neck of a violin." Clarice placed a violin neck into the Dead Man’s open mouth, pushing it down his neck until she can see the end of it through the opening she’s made. This drew Will’s and Clarice's attention to the powdery white residue on the victim’s throat._

"Powder on the wounds." Will said as he looked out on the meticulously designed acoustic space. "It’s rosin from a bow."  
  
Beverly gently thumped the hairs of the bow, creating a light cloud of powder drifting on the air, "That’s exactly what it is."

 _Clarice stood behind the corpse holding a string bow, back in the character of the killer._  
  
_"I wanted to play him. I wanted to create a sound." Will's voice said through her trance. She raised the bow to the dead man’s open throat. "This sound wasn’t for you or from you. It was from me. My sound." There was a pause. "This is my design."_

 _She ran the bow across the exposed and presented vocal chords, wrapped around the small end of the hearing horn intubator, emitting a single chilling note. "I give voice to death." Clarice bowed the dead man’s throat creating an eerie, incandescent sound._ Will abruptly stopped talking which in turn caused Clarice to stop, then realized no one else is there.

**BEDELIA’S HOME OFFICE - AFTERNOON**

Hannibal sat opposite Bedelia, who listened as he talked, "I worry I’ve made Franklyn feel powerless. His obsession with me is interfering with his progress." She doesn’t engage as much as wait, drawing Hannibal out. "He wants to be my friend."  
  
"Are these the opportunities for friendship you spoke about?" Bedelia asked.

"I’m considering referring him to another doctor." Hannibal said.  
  
"Referrals can be complicated. I referred you to another psychiatrist. You refused." Bedelia said.  
  
"I’m more tenacious than Franklyn." Hannibal said.  
  
"Why were you so tenacious?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"I feel protective of you." Hannibal admitted. His admission made her feel uncomfortable, but she hide it. "You support me as my colleague and psychiatrist and as a human being, I want to be supportive of you."  
  
"I’m not the only psychiatrist who’s ever been attacked by a patient." Bedelia said.  
  
"I hesitated to even bring up the subject of an obsessive patient because of your experience." Hannibal said.  
  
"Can’t allow what happened to me to interfere with your progress." Bedelia said.  
  
"You do." Hannibal said.

"Hannibal. I’m your psychiatrist, you’re not mine." Bedelia said.

As Hannibal considered Bedelia and her observation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Clarice's dresses
> 
> Opera dress: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/f4/4c/52/f44c5282dcc48eff986f0c4d001ad900.jpg (front of the dress) and https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/75/2a/cc/752acc0b523a1921fe085f647e0f701e.jpg (back of dress).
> 
> Italy dress: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/38/1b/0b/381b0b6d2d342894e6face355d95abd3.jpg (front of dress) and https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/b2/3f/14/b23f146fc2861e6ef5a22d4541b31479.jpg (back of dress).
> 
> And both are black.


	24. Chapter 24

** Fromage Part 2 **

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY**

Beverly used magnifying goggles as she examined the open throat wounds with a small plastic instrument. Brian leaned over the exposed vocal chords. Jimmy craned his neck to get a better look over both their shoulders. Will and Clarice maintained a short distance from the body, hovering nearby. Clarice tried to ignore the natural chill of the morgue against the bare skin of her legs.  
  
"Played him like a fiddle." Brian said.  
  
"Doesn’t seem like he was playing." Jimmy said.  
  
"Along with rosin powder, we found sodium carbonate, sulfur dioxide, lye and olive oil in the wounds." Beverly said.  
  
"What’s up with the olive oil?" Brian asked.  
  
"He wasn’t making a salad." Jimmy said.  
  
"Removed anything non-muscular or fatty around the vocal folds. Chords themselves have been treated with a sulfur dioxide solution." Brian said.  
  
Beverly plucked a very fine hair from the tissue, "Applied with a squirrel hair brush. Of squirrel, not for squirrel."  
  
"Sulfur dioxide had the effect of hardening the vocal chords." Jimmy said.

From across the room, Will looks closely at the Dead Man.

"Made them easier to play." Will said.

All sound is dulled and finally over-taken by the sustained chord she struck earlier playing the Dead Man’s throat. Clarice winced at the din of sound growing in her head. She focused through it, staring at the Dead Man on the table, then she said, "Had to open you up to get a decent sound out of you." Zeller, Price and Katz give Will and Clarice a slow glance. He shook off the ringing tone in his ears.  
  
"You pick it up and can’t play it, he’ll put you down and play you." Beverly said.  
  
"He took the time to whiten the vocal chords before he played them. That’s not very contemptuous." Brian said.  
  
"It wasn’t about whitening them. It was about increasing elasticity." Will said.  
  
"He’s treating the vocal chords the same way you’d treat catgut string." Beverly said. "Yes, I played the violin."  
  
"We should be looking at musicians, people who make instruments, anyone who had a ticket to his last show." Will said he stares at the human instrument on the morgue table. "This takes a steady hand. A confidence. He’s killed before."  
  
"Like this?" Jimmy asked.  
  
"Not like this. This is a skilled musician trying a new instrument." Will said.

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY**

Hannibal studied a pensive Will as he observed, "Among the first musical instruments were flutes carved from human bone."  
  
"This murder was a performance." Will said.  
  
"Every life is a piece of music. Like music, we are finite events, unique arrangements. Sometimes harmonious, sometimes dissonant." Hannibal said.  
  
"Sometimes not worth hearing again." Will said.  
  
"He’s a poet and a psychopath." Hannibal said.  
  
"And a craftsman. He was shrinking and tanning the vocal chords." Will said.  
  
"Like turning iron wire into musical steel string. Was there olive oil?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Yes." Will said.  
  
"Whatever sound he was trying to produce, it was an authentic one." Hannibal said.  
  
"Authentic?" Will asked.  
  
"Olive oil hasn’t been used in the production of catgut for over a century. It was said to increase the life of the strings and create a sweeter, more melodic sound." Hannibal said.

That doesn’t sit well with Will, "I can hear what he was playing behind my eyes, when I close them." His eyes narrowed when it dawned on him that if he could hear it then so could his protege.  
  
"What do you see behind closed eyes?" Hannibal asked.

Will considered how to answer Hannibal’s question, then decided to do it honestly, "I see myself."

Hannibal pondered the deeper meaning of that, studying Will, "You said the killer was performing. Who was he performing for?"  
  
"I don’t know. Patron of the arts. Fellow musician. Or another killer." Will said.  
  
"It’s a serenade." Hannibal said.  
  
"One night only." Will said.  
  
"No repeat performance?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"This isn’t how he kills. How he kills, he doesn’t get caught." Will answered.  
  
"You believe he risked getting caught for a serenade?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I believe he wants to show someone how well he plays." Will answered.  
  
"Intriguing." Hannibal said.

~~~~

Hannibal opened the door to his office but stopped when he saw an unknown woman and no sign of Clarice, he looked around to see if he had somehow missed Clarice. The woman stood up and cleared her voice drawing his attention to her.

"Doctor Lecter, it's me Clarice." 

He stared at her, his eyes scanning her and taking in her appearance. She was wearing a black dress shirt, black and white pencil skirt and black high heels. Clarice wore jewelry as well. She wore light make up as well and her hair was slightly styled.

She looked different and it made him wonder what she'll look like when she's completely done up.

"I didn't recognize you, Clarice." Hannibal said. "Please, come in."

Clarice walked passed him and said, "Thanks, my adopted mother came over and surprised me with some new clothes...I made the mistake of calling her to ask her what dresses would be good to wear to the opera, of course she jumped at that offer and kind of went on a spending spree."

"Does that mean you'll go to the opera with me?" Hannibal asked with a smile.

She looked at him confused then it seemed to dawn on her what she had said, "Ah, I think it does." Clarice smiled at him widely. "But give me time to wrap my head around that because I would never have thought that I would go with my therapist anywhere. Though is this before or after the dinner that you owe me?"

"Mm, after the dinner." Hannibal said. "What food to you like?" 

"I already told you that I don't like lamb." Clarice. "I'm allergic to fish. I eat pork, cow and chicken but I am open to try new things."

Hannibal smiled at her and said, "Excellent."

She sat down in one of the chairs and crossed her legs, "Shouldn't we start our session, Doctor Lecter?"

"Of course." Hannibal said as he sat down in the chair opposite of her. "You mentioned your adopted mother...when did she adopt you?"

"I was thirteen when she adopted me." Clarice said as she remembered that day. "She wanted an older child since she didn't have time to watch a younger child. She was a British solicit and was always at parties."

"Why did she pick you?"

Clarice shrugged her shoulders and said, "She liked my personality...and my accent, she actually gushed over it when she heard me talk."

Hannibal smiled and said, "I don't blame her, you have a wonderful personality...and your accent is lovely."

She blushed a little at his compliment and said, "Thank you." 

\---

She looked so lovely in a skirt, he never saw her in one before so he made sure to take many pictures of her throughout the day. Now he wanted to pose one of his dolls so that she could see his work.

His love note to her...

\---

Clarice looked down when her phone rang, she answered it, "Hello?" She was in her kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee. She had just gotten home from her session Dr. Lecter.

"Hello, Angel."

"Hey, Dad...what's up?"

"Just wanted to see how you're holding up, just wanted to see if you had survived your mother's surprise visit and shopping trip."

"Thanks, Dad." Clarice said as she rolled her eyes.

"No problem, just humor her and be safe."

Clarice smiled and said, "I will and you too." She ended the call and placed the phone back before she drank her coffee, Salem jumped onto the counter and she stroked him with a smile.

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - THE NEXT MORNING**

Hannibal now sits across from Franklyn.

"Remember when I said Tobias was saying dark things?" Franklyn asked.  
  
"I made note of it." Hannibal said.  
  
"He said he was gonna cut somebody’s throat and play it like a violin." Franklyn said. Hannibal stares at Franklyn, studying him. "They found somebody whose throat was cut and played like a violin.  
  
"Franklyn, do you think Tobias killed that man at the symphony?" Hannibal said.  
  
"I don’t know. I don’t -- I don’t -- If I do, do I have to report it?" Franklyn asked.  
  
"Do you have reason not to?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"What if I’m wrong?" Franklyn asked.  
  
"What if you’re right?" Hannibal asked instead of answering  
  
"I’m wrong all the time. Why would he say something like that to me?" Franklyn asked.  
  
"Why do you think?" Hannibal asked.

Franklyn takes longer to say it than to think it, "Because he knew I would tell you."

**CHORDOPHONE STRING SHOP Day**

Hannibal slowed as he approached the front door, hearing a haunting melody dancing off violin strings somewhere inside.  
  
Densely stocked with string instruments of all varieties. The door opened and Hannibal’s hand quickly slipped through the crack, gently silencing the bell above before it can ring. He stood inside the door, listening to the haunting strings.

Until they abruptly stop. Hannibal allowed the bell to ring as he closed the door. Tobias entered from the back room to find Hannibal admiring the strings of a displayed instrument.  
  
"You’re Franklyn’s therapist. Dr. Lecter. Nice to see you again." Tobias greeted.

Hannibal feigned an attempt at remembering his name, "Is it Tobias?"  
  
"Yes." Tobias said.  
  
"Your strings are all gut." Hannibal said.  
  
"I also carry steel and polymer strings, if you prefer." Tobias offered.  
  
"I prefer gut. Harps found in the tombs of Thebes strung with gut still made music after 2000 years. Wonderful music you were making." Hannibal said,  
  
"I didn’t hear you ring the bell." Tobias said.  
  
"I didn’t want you to stop playing. Was it an original composition?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Something I’ve been writing." Tobias said. "You compose?"

"I discover. Can’t impose traditional composition on an instrument that’s inherently free form." Hannibal said.  
  
"What instrument would that be?" Tobias asked.  
  
"The theremin." Hannibal answered.  
  
"Instruments speak volumes about the musician playing them. Especially one that doesn’t require touch." Tobias said.  
  
"Theremin isn’t the only instrument I play, but it is one of my favorites. It can generate any pitch throughout its range, even those between conventional notes." Hannibal said.  
  
"So can a violin or a trombone." Tobias said.  
  
"Are those your instruments?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"The violin. Not the trombone." Tobias replied.  
  
"It seems we’re both comfortable playing between conventional notes." Hannibal said. "Too bad you don’t play the sliphorn. I hear the Orchestra is looking for a new trombonist."  
  
"Altogether horrible what happened." Tobias said.  
  
"Not altogether. It’s an unfortunate way to leave the symphony, yes, but I can’t help thinking the orchestra will be better for it." Hannibal said.

Tobias studies Hannibal, realizing he’s being baited, "At least the brass section. What brings you here looking for gut?"  
  
"My harpsichord needs new strings. It’s making an awful noise. Perhaps you could help?" Hannibal asked.

Tobias is intrigued...

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - NIGHT**

Will tied a fly, hearing the distant strains of the haunting music from the amphitheater. Frustrated, he dropped the hook, covered his ears, and the music faded eventually. Then he heard a faint scratching noise. Will’s eyes open, staring into middle distance as he listened. Another scratching sound.

Will looked at the dogs, who sleep soundly. scratch-scratch. Will opened the front door and listened. Scratch.

There’s nothing outside. Will scanned the front porch and yard before finally closing the door. Scratch-scratch-scratch. The dogs still don’t react, even as Will stepped over them, searching for the source of the scratching in the house.

Will approached the chimney wall above the fireplace. He pressed his ear against the brick and listened.

Nothing.

Then scratch-scratch-scratch...

A gaping, jagged hole in a chimney, surrounded by ruptured plaster and dry wall. Alana, still wearing her coat, and Will, covered in dust and soot, gazing in at the jagged hole in the chimney. The dogs are all resting on Will’s bed on the other side of the room.  
  
"What kind of animal was it?" Alana asked.  
  
"Might’ve been a raccoon." Will answered.  
  
"Might’ve been?" Alana echoed.  
  
"By the time I knocked a hole in the chimney, it crawled out the top." Will replied.

Alana considers Will as surreptitiously as possible. Nevertheless Will notices her studied glance.  
  
"Well, at least it got out." Alana said.  
  
"What are you doing out?" Will asked.  
  
"Thought I’d make some noise and shoo away any predators at your door but looks like you were making plenty of noise all by yourself." Alana said as she nudges a river rock part of the chimney’s structure.

Will eyes Alana a moment, curious, "You avoided being in a room alone with me, essentially, since I met you. You were smooth about it, too."  
  
"Evidently not smooth enough." Alana said.  
  
"Now you’re making house calls." Will said.  
  
"It’s just a drive-by. On my way home. Since you’re not my patient." Alana said.  
  
"No, I’m not." Will said as he pulls her closer and he brings his lips to hers in a kiss. Alana’s mind reels for a split second before she returns the kiss. A moment of genuine, careless passion and then Alana’s brow furrows. She breaks off the kiss.  
  
"I’m confused." Alana murmured.  
  
"You have to stop thinking so much." Will replied.  
  
"I can stop the thinking if we’re not... But if we’re..." Alana said trailing off.  
  
"Intimate." Will finished.  
  
"The way I am in relationships, not that this is a relationship, it’s just a kiss, a great kiss, but the way I am isn’t compatible with...." Alana said.  
  
"The way I am." Will said.  
  
"I wouldn’t be good for you. You wouldn’t be good for me. “We” wouldn’t be good for either of us." Alana said as she eyed the pile of debris in front of the fireplace. "I wouldn’t be able to stop analyzing. I have a professional curiosity about you."

He kissed her again. She doesn’t resist.  
  
Will pulled away and whispered, "I’m not your patient."  
  
"If I were my patient, my advice to me would be... don’t do this. I have to take my own advice." Alana said. "I’m going to go ahead and go now. Good night, Will."

Will watched Alana go...

**Clarice's House**

She sat up quickly with a startled yell, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. On the pillow next to hers, Salem was sitting up and watching her. Clarice placed her hand on her sweaty forehead and laid back down, bringing the covers over her head completely. Salem crawled from his spot from her second pillow and went under her covers to curl up against her chest, purring sleepily. She gently wrapped an arm around the cat as her other arm went under her pillow, she slowly returned back to the realm of her nightmares and dreams.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will wants to protect Clarice so he hasn't told her what's been bothering him but she'll find out...

**Fromage Part 3**

**HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT**

Hannibal poured Tobias a glass of wine, he smelled and sipped the wine, "A late harvest Vidal from Linden."  
  
"Virginia? I thought it was French." Tobias said surprised.  
  
"The Virginia wine revolution is upon us. I apologize for being so blunt, Tobias, but I have to ask... did you kill that trombonist?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Do you really have to ask?" Tobias asked instead of answering.  
  
"No. Just changing the subject." Hannibal said.  
  
"Franklyn gave you my message." Tobias said.  
  
"The murder is being investigated by the FBI. They’re going to find you." Hannibal stated.  
  
"Let them." Tobias said.  
  
"You want to be caught?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I want them to try." Tobias said. "They may question me because I own a string shop. They’d send two men to conduct an interview, I’d kill them. Then I would find Franklyn, kill him. Then I would disappear."  
  
"Don’t kill Franklyn." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’ve been looking forward to it. Actually, I was going to kill you." Tobias admitted.  
  
"Of course you were. I’m lean. Lean animals yield the toughest gut." Hannibal said.  
  
"I make my own string. Tell anyone who asks, it’s imported from Italy." Tobias said.  
  
"What stopped you from wanting to kill me? Or have you stopped?" Hannibal asked curious.  
  
"I stopped after I followed you one night. Out of town. Out of state. To a lonely road. To a bus yard." Tobias responded. Hannibal’s face goes still when he heard that. "Have you ever wanted to get caught? To see what would happen?"  
  
"You’re reckless, Tobias." Hannibal said. He briefly wondered what Clarice would do if she heard about his...side hobbies, probably would be a mix of emotions. Anger would probably be the main emotion.  
  
"I’m not going to tell anyone what I saw you do and do well. So my recklessness doesn’t concern you." Tobias said.  
  
"It concerns me because you won’t be drawing attention just to yourself." Hannibal said.  
  
"I could use a friend. Someone who can understand me. Who thinks like I do, and can see the world and the people in it the way I do." Tobias said.  
  
"I know exactly how you feel. But I don’t want to be your friend." Hannibal rejected his offer.  
  
"Then why would you invite me to dinner? It wasn’t just to restring your harpsichord." Tobias said.  
  
"I was going to kill you." Hannibal stated. Tobias glanced at his food, then back to Hannibal. "I didn’t poison you, Tobias. I wouldn’t do that to the food."

The doorbell rings.  
  
"Expecting someone?" Tobias asked.  
  
"No." Was the only answer as Hannibal stood up.

Tobias’ steely stare stayed on Hannibal...  
  
Hannibal opened the door to reveal Will and Clarice, shaking off their raincoats in the mud room. Clarice was wearing her normal dress shirt though she black slacks instead of denim jeans today, apparently she had been able to talk her mother out of forcing her to wear skirts during winter.  
  
"I kissed Alana Bloom." Will said bluntly.

Hannibal blinked almost imperceptibly.

"Aww, come on, Doctor Lecter, that's how you're going to react to it? It's such big news!" Clarice quipped. "When he told me, I almost choked on my coffee...burned my tongue in the process too."

"I said that I was sorry, Clarice."

"Still hurt, next time ask if I was drinking anything hot before you spring your personal life on someone."   
  
"Come in." Hannibal said breaking their friendly banter.  
  
Hannibal led Clarice and Will into the room, surreptitiously looking for Tobias. Will noticed the half-eaten meals as Hannibal shut the garden door, locked it and pulled the shades before Will can see the footsteps in the snow outside.  
  
"Did you have a guest?" Will asked.  
  
"A colleague. You just missed him." Hannibal said.  
  
Hannibal cleared the plates with the half-eaten meals.  
  
"Didn’t finish his dinner." Will said.  
  
"An urgent call of some sort. Had to leave suddenly. This benefits you because I have dessert for two." Hannibal said he had looked to Clarice when he had said that but she shook her head.

"I don't like sweets." Clarice said.   
  
Hannibal whisked whipped cream and tossed a dollop on two Ramekins overflowing with an exotic bread pudding.  
  
"Tell me, what was Alana’s reaction?" Hannibal asked as Clarice sipped from her cup of coffee that he had made for her.  
  
"She said she wouldn’t be good for me and I wouldn’t be good for her." Will answered.  
  
"I don’t disagree." Hannibal said then added when he saw Clarice's and Will’s look. "She would feel an obligation to her field of study to observe you. And you would resent her for it."  
  
"I know." Will said.  
  
"Wondering then why you kissed her and felt compelled to drive an hour in the snow to tell me about it." Hannibal said.  
  
"Wanted to kiss her since I met her." Will said.  
  
"You waited a long time, which suggests you were kissing her for a reason in addition to wanting to." Hannibal said.

At that moment Clarice stood up and whispered, "Sorry, my phone's been vibrating like crazy...excuse me while I take this call." She walked off and answered the phone. "Hello? Hey, dad...no, I wasn't sleeping..." Her voice grew fainter as she walked out of hearing range.  
  
"I heard an animal trapped in my chimney. I broke through the wall to get it out. Didn’t find anything inside. Alana showed up. She looked at me, maybe her face changed, I don’t know. She knew." Will explained.  
  
"What did she know, Will?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"There wasn’t an animal in the chimney. It was only in my head." Will said.  
  
"Did she say that?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"She didn’t have to. I sleep walk. I get headaches. I’m hearing things. I feel unstable." Will said.  
  
"That’s why you kissed her. A clutch for balance." Hannibal said. "If I may ask, why haven't you told Clarice about what's wrong with you?"  
  
"Because I’m losing mine." Will said. "She knows but she won't say anything...least not yet, not until she feels like she'll lose me as well."  
  
"You said yourself what you do is not good for you." Hannibal said. "It seems to be that Clarice may care about you more than a protege and student should.."  
  
"Unfortunately, I’m good for it." Will said. "She views me as an older brother, she bluntly said it in front of me when a former boyfriend had accused us of dating."  
  
"Are you still hearing this killer’s serenade behind your eyes?" Hannibal asked dropping the subject of any romantic feelings between protege and mentor when he heard how Clarice truly felt for Will.

Will nodded his head and said, "It’s our song."  
  
"I hesitate telling you this as it borders on a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality. I’ve never been in this position before." Hannibal said. "A patient told me today he suspects a friend of his may be involved with the murder at the symphony."

Clarice, at that moment, returned to the room putting her phone in her back pocket and stopped when she heard what Hannibal said.  
  
"What did he say about his friend?" Will asked.  
  
"He owns a music store in Baltimore, specializing in string instruments. Perhaps you should interview him." Hannibal said.

Hannibal innocently sending Will and Clarice into the lion’s den...

**BEDELIA’S HOME OFFICE - DAY**

He stared into middle distance, an amused glint in his eye, "For the first time in a long while I see a possibility of friendship."  
  
Hannibal sat opposite Bedelia in her office.  
  
"Is there someone new in your life?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"Two someones actually. I met a man much like myself, same hobbies, same world views. But I’m not interested in being his friend. I’m curious about him and that got me curious about friendship." Hannibal admitted.  
  
"That’s progress. I always considered you an individualist. The social anti-social." Bedelia said.  
  
"A polite way of saying sociopath?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I’m not sure how to categorize you in those terms. And I think you prefer it that way." Bedelia said.  
  
"I’m afraid once you figure me out, you’ll lose interest." Hannibal admitted.  
  
"Whose friendship are you considering?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"Oddly enough, a colleague and a patient. Not unlike how I am a colleague and patient of yours. We’ve discussed him before." Hannibal said. "Though we haven't discussed the second person, his protege...a young woman."  
  
"Will Graham." Bedelia said. "And what's the woman's name?"  
  
"Clarice Starling." Hannibal said with a small smile that was hard to see. "He’s nothing like me. We see the world in different ways, yet he can assume my point of view."  
  
"How has he demonstrated that?" Bedelia said. "And how about Ms. Starling?"  
  
"He’s demonstrated the capacity." Hannibal said. "She's very much the same way as her mentor but she also called me on something as well. Actually more like challenged me, she asked me to turn that high-powered perception at myself and write down what I find. Clarice Staring is far from common."  
  
"By profiling the criminally insane?" Bedelia said. "It sounds to me like you want more than just friendship with Clarice."  
  
"As good a demonstration as any. I find it reassuring." Hannibal said. He didn't want to admit out loud just how he really felt about Clarice, at least not yet.  
  
"It’s nice to have someone see us, Hannibal. Or have the ability to see us. It requires trust. Trust isn’t easy for you." Bedelia said. She noticed that he didn't deny or admit to wanting more than just a friendship with Clarice Starling.  
  
"You mean, behind the veil?" Hannibal asked. She stared that’s exactly what she means. "You’ve helped me to better understand what I want in a friendship. And what I don’t."  
  
"Someone worthy of your friendship." Bedelia said

The word “worthy” rang true for Hannibal. She can see it.  
  
"Yes." Hannibal admitted.   
  
"You spend a lot of time building walls, Hannibal." Bedelia said. "It’s natural to want to see if anyone is clever enough to climb over them."

 **CHORDOPHONE STRING SHOP - DAY**  

Will and Clarice are flanked by two local Baltimore police officers as he approaches the front door.  
  
The bells above the door rang as Will and Clarice entered, followed by the two local Baltimore police officers, Stewart and Dormau. Tobias is escorting a pre-teen cello player out from the parlor behind the storefront.  
  
"I’m Special Agent Will Graham with the FBI. This is Clarice Starling, an FBI Trainee. Are you the owner here?" Will introduced himself and Clarice.  
  
"Yes, Tobias Budge. I’m just showing one of my students out. Can you give me a moment?" Tobias said.

Will nodded. Tobias guided Pre-Teen Cello Player out the door.

"JSB’s Suite #1 for Saturday." Tobias said to the teen.  
  
"Okay." The boy glanced over his shoulder, then exited.

Clarice watched the boy leave before she looked back at Tobias.

Tobias turned back to Will, Clarice and the Police Officers, "What can I help you with?  
  
"We’re investigating the death of Douglas Wilson. He was a..." Will started to say.  
  
Tobias interrupted him by saying, "The Trombonist."

"Did you know him?" Will asked.  
  
"I was aware of him. Baltimore’s a small town and its cultural arts community is even smaller." Tobias said as he adjusted a display cello, loosening the balance rod.  
  
"That’s why we’re here, Mr. Budge." Will said.  
  
"I hear someone cut his throat and tried to play it with a bow." Tobias said.  
  
"Why do you say try?" Clarice asked then.  
  
"Strings have to be treated. You can’t just open somebody up and run a bow across their innards and expect to produce a sound." Tobias said.

Will heard the familiar strains of the haunting melody rising in his ears, trying to focus through it, "The vocal chords were chemically treated, similar to how catgut strings are treated. We kept those details out of the press."  
  
"Looking for someone who knows how to manufacture gut strings?" Tobias asked.  
  
"Anyone leap to mind?" Will asked.

Tobias handed Will a bundle of catgut strings, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tobias. Tobias is sensing his suspicion as well as the woman's who had been eyeing him since she walked inside.  
  
"Mine are imported from Italy. Best catgut is. The String section of the Baltimore Metropolitan Orchestra refuses to play anything else." Tobias said.  
  
"More authentic." Will said.  
  
"A richer, darker sound. Allows music to say what words can’t." Tobias said.

Then a horrible skidding noise from outside followed by a sickening thump and the pained cry of a dog. Will startles. Clarice looked at him and her eyes narrowed, something was wrong with Will.  
  
"Something wrong?" Tobias asked  
  
"Sounded like a dog got hit by a car. You didn’t hear it?" Will asked.  
  
"I didn’t hear anything." Stewart said.

Tobias, Clarice and the other Police Officer shake their heads “no” they didn’t hear anything either. Another whimpered cry.  
  
"Excuse me a minute." Will said.

Tobias strummed the strings of the cello he just straightened as he watched Will cross to the door and exit. Clarice stood there for a few minutes before she excused herself and followed after him.  
  
Will stepped out of the shop and down the walkway, his eyes searching the street for any sign of a commotion or wounded animal. He saw nothing. He heard nothing. A pedestrian eyed Will and kept moving. Clarice appeared next to him and handed him a familiar bottle, silent but worried about him. Will took it and shook out aspirin into his hand and tossed them back, swallowing hard. He rubbed his forehead and squinted at the snow, worried. Finally, he trudged back toward with Clarice at his side...  
  
Will and Clarice are quick to apologize.  
  
"Sorry about that. I..." Will started to say but stopped when he and Clarice saw that the store is empty. Approaching the counter, he paused. "Officers. Officers." Will simultaneously retrieved weapon and phone while Clarice retrieved her own weapon. "I need ERT at Chordophone Strings downtown Baltimore. Officers down." Will and Clarice stepped behind the counter and slipped into the private room for lessons seen earlier. Will entered to find Officer Stewart tumbled over the piano bench, a cello rid jammed under his neck through the top of his head.

Clarice closed her eyes and let's out a breathe as she tightened her grip on her weapon, keeping finger away from the trigger.

Then suddenly, Will heard a strange noise coming from a the depths of an obscured staircase.   
  
Trying to decipher the sound. Gun out in front of him, he moved into the darkness of the stairs until it swallowed him. Clarice silently moved after him, watching their backs as they walked down the stairs.  
  
Will hugged the wall. He waited till his eyes adjust to the dim light of a single light bulb. But the smell tells him before his eyes can verify what his brain already knows. This is where Tobias Budge makes his own catgut strings. Ropes of intestines running the length of the room, drying. Lying in long cleansing troughs of water. Cut strings lying in piles like pasta in pans on a table. An eerie and horrible maze of strings in various stages of treatment.

Clarice winced when she saw the horrible sight but she stayed behind her mentor, covering his back.  
  
And then he heard it again. 

It's coming from behind an opaque curtain hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the basement. Will approached cautiously and then slipped almost falling.Clarice is quick to grab his arm and help him regain his balance.  
  
He glanced down to see what he stepped on. It is Officer Dormau's Badge in a pool of blood.  
  
He threw back the curtain to find Officer Dormau on his knees, dangling forward, supported by a series of razor sharp wire strings cutting deep into his face and neck. The scratching sound was from his intact hand swinging, rubbing against the cement floor while his severed and sliced hand whisks back and forth unobstructed.

Will doesn’t allow himself to be distracted long, turning and scanning the area for any signs of Tobias Budge. A blur of movement out of the corner of Will’s eye. Tobias loops a multi-wired weapon over Will’s head. Clarice cried out when she was ruthlessly shoved back after she went to defend her mentor, her gun going off into the wall next to her as the side of her head hit the wall and she slid down dazed.

Will raised an arm defensively over his face and throat, but the strings cut into him regardless. He needed to protect both himself and his student or else they will both die here. His gun comes up, firing next to his own ear and blowing Tobias’ ear off. The bang is deafening, literally. Will’s hearing goes dark and muddy, as he reeled from the pain. He clutched his ear with his bloody hand, spinning to find Tobias clutching his own bloody ear. Will raised the gun to fire again and Tobias is already moving, scurrying out of sight.

Will fired, missing Tobias and blowing a hole in the wall. Tobias quickly climbed the stairs and disappeared. Will stood there a moment, shaking, as the ringing in his ear is slowly replaced by the ringing of sirens.

He rushed over to Clarice, holstering his gun as he gently touched her head checking for wounds. She had a small cut on her temple which was bleeding and looked swollen, it was going to bruise later. But other than that she looked fine.

"Clarice...are you okay?" Will whispered, worried.

She groaned and opened her eyes, "Yeah...just had my bell rung...where's that asshole?"

"He took off, can you stand?"

"Yeah but you might want to help me."

Will helped Clarice stand up, she was a bit wobbly but she was able to remain standing...as long as she used Will as a crutch. Clarice winced when she felt her head start to throb, hello headache if she ever saw that man again she was going to shoot him. 

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY**

Franklyn is in deep thought, as his fingers count the number of whatever he is mulling. Four, five, six...Hannibal and Franklyn are mid-session. Franklyn continued to count on his fingers, until, seven, eight, nine, and finally the man said, "Nine times. I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve been dumped by a psychiatrist."  
  
"I’m sorry, Franklyn, I think it’s best if you see another doctor." Hannibal said apologetically.  
  
"You’re giving me a referral." Franklyn said.  
  
"Yes." Hannibal replied.  
  
"You were a referral." Franklyn said.  
  
"I’m also part of the problem. You focus too much on your therapist and not enough on your therapy." Hannibal said.  
  
"You lost respect for me because I wouldn’t report Tobias, didn’t you?" Franklyn asked.  
  
"Report Tobias for what?" A familiar voice asked.

Franklyn is surprised to see Tobias standing in the doorway of the patient entrance, Hannibal less so. Tobias wore a hat and jacket to obscure his bloodied hands and clothes.  
  
"Tobias...?" Franklyn asked, surprised.

Hannibal stood as Tobias moved into the room.

"I came to say goodbye, Franklyn." Tobias said.  
  
"What do you mean goodbye? Ohmygod. Is that your blood?" Franklyn asked when he saw the blood.  
  
"I just killed two men. The FBI came to question me about the murder." Tobias asked. "And I injured a woman too but I could have killed her given how hard she hit the wall when I shoved her away."

Hannibal blinked at that. Could he have murdered Will? And what did he do to Clarice?  
  
"You have to turn yourself in. This plane is going down. Let it be a controlled descent. You can get back up in the air again. There is rehabilitation for everyone." Franklyn said.  
  
"Franklyn, I want you to leave now." Hannibal ordered knowing what's going to happen to his patient.  
  
"Stay right where you are, Franklyn." Tobias demanded.

Franklyn stepped forward, trying to calm Tobias, "You’ve done something horrible and I know you wish to god you didn’t, but you did and there’s nothing you can do to change that. Only thing you can change is your future. You’re probably scared. Probably feel like you’re all alone."  
  
"I’m not alone." Tobias said.  
  
"That’s right. You’re not alone. Nothing has happened in our friendship that you and I can’t recover from." Franklyn said still not seeing the danger that he was in.

And with that, Hannibal has had enough and snapped Franklyn’s neck, dropping him to the ground like a cinder block. Hannibal then turned his attention to Tobias...  
  
Hannibal and Tobias are squaring off. No one moves.

Tobias motioned to the dead Franklyn, "I was looking forward to that."  
  
"I know." Hannibal stated.

And then the phone rang. It's loud and shrill.  Hannibal calmly picked up the phone and slammed it into the side of Tobias' head. Tobias recovered, slashed the air with a razor sharp piano wire whip pulled from his sleeve. Hannibal raised his forearm to block it and it shredded his coat arm.  
  
Moving quickly, he closed the distance between them neutralizing the wire. Dropping low, he thrusted an open palm toward Tobias's midsection, then allowed his hand to glide up his nemesis's chest toward his vulnerable chin in a perfectly realized Omega punch/strike technique. Tobias deflected the death blow at the last second and locked Hannibal's arm in an arm bar. But Hannibal used his weight advantage against him and tossed Tobias over the desk, slamming into the support column hard. Hannibal vaulted over the desk, wrapping the crook of his arm around Tobias’ throat and pulling tight.  
  
He fought to remain conscious as Hannibal locked his legs around him increasing the tension on the garrote. In the struggle, Tobias's hands found a letter opener. He slide it beneath Hannibal’s palm, then through it, sending Hannibal sprawling backwards. Tobias goes after him. It's brutal and incredibly violent as elbows and knees deliver bone crunching devastation in-between the jabbing and slashing of Tobias’ letter opener.  
  
Parrying a thrust, Hannibal eventually opened Tobias's forearm from elbow to wrist with the tip of a ballpoint pen leaving a jagged, bloody wound. Tobias cried out as his weapon tumbled from his hand.  
  
He moved in tight wanting to finish this quickly. As he thrusted his pen towards Tobias's throat, he is surprised by a sharp blow to his carotid artery and stumbled back, his blood pressure momentarily dropping as his brain tried to reboot.  
  
Tobias lunged forward, tackling Hannibal. In full guard, he now reigned blows down on Hannibal's head in the hopes of ending him.  
  
Holding on to consciousness, he caught one of Tobias's arms and broke it at the elbow. As Tobias screamed, Hannibal rolled him off and climbed to his feet. Bruised and battered, he retrieved the heavy metal stag statue from its pedestal, bringing it down violently on Tobias’ skull with a sickening crack. Hannibal collapsed from exhaustion, battered and bloodied.

\----  
  
Hannibal’s office is now an active crime scene. Local police officers, detectives and emergence officials present. The corpses of Tobias and Franklyn lie sadly amongst the debris. Hannibal is being treated by a paramedic, bandaging his arm and tending to his other wounds. Hannibal stared into middle distance until he saw Will and Clarice, also with bandaged arm though Clarice had a blood-soaked bandaged over her temple, Jack at their side.

Will eyed the bloody stag statue next to Tobias’ dead body.

Hannibal is visibly relieved to see Will and Clarice alive and well.  
  
"Mr. Budge said he was questioned by the FBI and he murdered two men. And that he had injured a woman. I was worried you were both dead." Hannibal said.

Will demonstrates his own wounded arm, "You had reason to worry."

"I just got my bell rung. Got some stitches and a headache." Clarice said as she motioned to her bandaged temple. "I didn't hit the wall that hard but I was told not to go to sleep yet just in case I have a concussion."  
  
"Tobias Budge kills two Baltimore Police Officers, nearly kills an FBI Special Agent and a trainee, and after all that his first stop is your office." Jack said.  
  
"He came to kill my patient." Hannibal said.  
  
"Hannibal’s patient told him he suspected a friend was involved with the murder at the symphony. Hannibal told us and we investigated. I got him involved." Will said. "Your patient. Is that who Tobias Budge was serenading?"  
  
"I don’t know. Franklyn knew more than he was telling me. He told Mr. Budge he didn’t have to kill anymore. Then he broke Franklyn’s neck. Then he attacked me." Hannibal said.  
  
"And you killed him." Jack said.

Hannibal eyed with convincing sadness Franklyn’s corpse as it is placed into a body bag and hoisted onto a gurney, "Yes."  
  
"Could your patient’ve been involved with any of what Budge was doing?" Will asked.  
  
"I thought this was a simple matter of poor choice in friends." Hannibal said.

Jack eyed Hannibal a brief moment, then turned his attention to the crime scene and the two bodies being wheeled out.  
  
"This doesn’t feel simple." Jack said.

Jack moved off to study the crime scene as Will sat while Clarice took gauze from a med-kit and dabbing Hannibal’s bloody forehead moving close to the doctor in order to do it. Hannibal silently enjoyed her gently touch as she cleaned off the blood.  
  
"I feel like I’ve dragged you into my world." Will said. "You as well, Clarice...I'm sorry."

"Eh, nothing to be sorry about." Clarice said as she cleaned off the blood, not looking at Will as she worked. "I knew what I was getting when I asked you to mentor me."

"I got here on my own. But I appreciate the company." Hannibal said.

Will, Clarice and Hannibal share a smile that showed their uneasy camaraderie...

Will then excused himself and wandered off to talk to the paramedic that had treated Clarice, her bandage was actually recent since she had been able to dodge the hands of the paramedic back at the shop but the man had called his coworkers that were here to treat her and cornered her just before she entered the office. Clarice finished cleaning off the blood and put the gauze down.

"There...all clean." Clarice said with a smile.

"Thank you..." Hannibal said as he eyed her bandaged temple before he slowly, gently reached up to lightly touch the edge of the bandage. "Are you alright?"

Clarice reached up to gently place her fingers on top of his as she said, "Yeah, it wasn't that bad." She wrapped her fingers around his and pulled his hand away, smiling. "There'll probably be a bruise by tomorrow and a faint scar when it finally heals. But I am fine, you avenged me and Will after all." Clarice smiled widely at him, grateful. 

Hannibal returned her smile, he didn't fully avenge her though but he promised that the next person to harm her and draw her blood will met his full wrath and skills with a blade.  
  
**BEDELIA’S HOME OFFICE - MORNING**

Hannibal sat opposite Bedelia, mid-therapy, in her office.  
  
"I’m going to start seeing patients again. It’s strange thinking about going back to daily practice." Hannibal said.  
  
"It’s good you stepped away. Even if it was only for a few days." Bedelia said.  
  
"Patients will sit where Franklyn died. I will sit where I almost died. And I will offer therapy." Hannibal said. Bedelia simply watched Hannibal, saying nothing. "It’s easy to understand why you retired after you were attacked." There was a pause. "Will you ever feel comfortable returning to psychiatric work?"  
  
"This is psychiatric work." Bedelia answered.  
  
"One patient isn’t a practice." Hannibal said then added when he saw her silent stare. "I can’t help feeling responsible for what happened to Franklyn."  
  
"Every person has an intrinsic responsibility for their own life, Hannibal. No one else can take on that responsibility. Not even you." Bedelia said.  
  
"Did you take responsibility when you were attacked by your patient?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Yes. But I don’t take responsibility for his death." Bedelia said.

Hannibal considered that a moment, then said, "Nor should you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine a two brass knuckles connected by four razor sharp strings, that's Tobias's weapon. And holy shit, Hannibal is freaking awesome! xD
> 
> I changed it to Clarice cleaning the blood off him because it made more sense :P heellllo, the pairing for this story is Clarice and Hannibal after all
> 
> Hannibal and Clarice's dinner date will happen in the next 'episode'!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided not to write down the first scene of this episode, you know Abigail's dream...wanted to get to the action so sorry!
> 
> Actually I'm not sorry because you all reading this because of the promise of scenes with Hannibal and Clarice...to see a maybe future sexy times :P

**Trou Normand Part 1**

**Grafton, West Virginia**

Will and Clarice walked across chilly winter beach, past local police closing off the crime scene, and toward Jack, Beverly, Jimmy and Brian.

They are looking up at a grotesque totem pole, a crazily artistic vertical display made up of human body parts (from a lot of bodies). Dried dead faces mark it at regular intervals getting fresher and fresher as they reach the top. The headpiece is the brutalized body of a recently murdered man. His bones and joints have been broken, so that his legs spread out from either side like wings. His head and torso lean forward like a hawk, ready to pounce with dead eyes.  
  
Around the totem pole, the field shows seven recently dug shallow graves, like dark earthen wounds in the sand. Blood splatter marks the base of the totem pole. Will pulls aspirin from his pocket and chews two, Clarice had somehow broken the bottle and now carried the aspirin in a Ziploc bag.  
  
"I got ten heads and counting..." Beverly said.  
  
"The world’s sickest jigsaw puzzle." Brian said.  
  
"Where are the corners?" Jimmy asked then he saw their looks. "My mom always said start a jigsaw with the corners..."

"Did your mom include body jigsaw puzzles when she told you that?" Clarice quipped. "Because mine didn't...birth and adopted." She didn't really remember her birth mother but she felt like she needed to say it in case she had and Clarice had simply forgotten.  
  
"I guess the heads are the corners?" Brian mused.

Beverley circled the totem pole, counting body parts, "We’ve got too many corners. Seven graves. Way more heads."  
  
"It’s a totem pole." Will said.

"The world's sickest totem pole." Clarice quipped as she looked up.

"The headpiece is the only recent victim. The others are years, even decades old. At least seven of them were buried on the beach." Jack said.  
  
"Whoever dug them up knew exactly where they were buried." Will said.  
  
"Killing them once wasn’t enough. He came back to defile his victims." Jack said.  
  
"These graves weren’t desecrated, Jack. They were exposed." Will said.  
  
Katz, Price and Zeller herd back the intrigued local officers. Jack watched Will and Clarice from across the field as they continued to stare upwards at the totem pole.  
  
He exhaled, then closed his eyes.

_A pendulum swung in the darkness of Will’s mind. The pendulum now swings outside Will’s head. As it swings the police presence is wiped from the field. Now only the totem pole remains. The pendulum swung again and the totem pole now laid flat on the ground with its horrific decoration. The pendulum swung across the totem pole and the blood is lifted from the snow._

_The pendulum stopped swinging, snapping into place. The scene has now been decriminalized in Will’s mind._  
  
_He opened his eyes, walked forward and kneeled in the snow. His raw material laid out around him in the snow. corpses. The oldest have rags of cloth and dried-out flesh, and they get fresher along the line._

_"I planned this moment... this monument with precision. Collected all my raw materials in advance." Clarice murmured her voice breaking through his trance. He is wiring body parts in an intricate pattern to one end of the horizontal wooden pole. He attached a skull. "I position the bodies carefully, according each its rightful place. Peace in the pieces disassembled." As Will worked, the man is bound and gagged, lying terrified in the snow. Struggling against his bonds. Wrists bloody from his efforts. Smearing the snow with red. "My latest victim I save for last. I want him to watch me work. I want him to know my design." Now Will kneeled by the man and raised a hunting knife. Will’s murderous face is reflected large in the man’s terrified eye, and he brought down the knife, hard and fast into the man's heart. "Your death is my crowning glory. Blood seeps into the surrounding sand." The horrible head piece that is the corpse of the man, looming above. "This is my resume. My body of work." Will looked up as a solitary drop of blood fell towards his face._

He blinked slowly but he then realized that he's now sat in the waiting room.  
  
"Will?"

Will glanced up to find Hannibal at the office door.

"I wasn’t expecting you." Hannibal said.

Will, his fear, because he has no answer to that question.

\-----

Will paced, agitated. Hannibal sat in his chair, hoping his calm will bring Will to him.  
  
"I don’t know how I got here." Will said.  
  
"Your car is outside. So we know you drove. Safely it would seem." Hannibal said.  
  
"I was on a beach in Grafton, West Virginia...I blinked and then I was waking up in your waiting room. Except I wasn’t asleep." Will said.  
  
"Grafton, West Virginia is three-and a-half hours from here." Hannibal said. "You lost time."  
  
"Something is wrong with me." Will said.  
  
"You’re disassociating, Will. It’s a desperate survival mechanism for a psyche that endures repeated abuse." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’m not abused." Will stated.  
  
"You have an empathy disorder. What you feel is overwhelming you." Hannibal said.  
  
"I know." Will said.

"Yet you choose to ignore it. That is the abuse I’m referring to." Hannibal said.  
  
"You want me to quit?" Will asked.  
  
"Jack Crawford gave you a chance to quit and you didn’t take it. Why?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I save lives." Will answered.  
  
"And that feels good." Hannibal said.  
  
"Generally speaking, yes." Will said.  
  
"What about your life?" Hannibal asked. "I’m your friend, Will. I don’t care about the lives you save. I care about your life. And your life is separating from reality."

Will considered. It’s difficult for him to admit, but he does, "I’ve been sleepwalking. I’m experiencing hallucinations. Maybe I should get a brain scan."

Hannibal said, intense, "Damn it, Will. Stop looking in the wrong corner for an answer to this." Will is briefly startled by Hannibal’s passionate concern. "You were at a crime scene when you disassociated. Tell me about it."  
  
"It was a totem pole of bodies." Will said.  
  
"In some cultures, crimes and guilt are made manifest so that everyone can see them and see their shame." Hannibal said.

"This isn’t shame. It’s celebration. He’s marking his achievements." Will said.  
  
"And faced with this killer’s achievements, your mind needed to escape and you lost time." Hannibal said.  
  
"Yes." Will admitted.  
  
"I’m worried about you, Will." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’m worried about me, too." Will said.  
  
"You empathize so completely with the killers Jack Crawford has your mind wrapped around that you lose yourself to them. What if you lose time and hurt yourself or someone else? I don’t want you to wake up and see a totem of your own making." Hannibal said.

Will has nothing to say in return but if he was going to, it was interrupted by someone opening the door with a distracted knock. Both men looked over to see the flushed, worried face of one FBI Trainee Clarice Starling. She panted heavily as her eyes fell on Will, it looked like she had ran all the way up here. Relief appeared on her face but it was quickly replaced by anger. 

"Are you okay, Clarice?" Will asked.

She held up one finger as she panted, slowly calming down before she glared at Will and let him have the full force of her anger and worry.

"Am I okay?! I'm not the one who walked off!" Clarice snapped starting to move her hands as she talked, something she did when she was very emotional. Her twang coming out. "Do you know how panicked I was when I opened my eyes and you were gone?! Very! I had to jump into my car and go looking for you!" She took a breathe. "I decided to come here in the off chance that you might have came here...because of you, I ran up all those stairs."

"You could have used the elevator, Clarice." Will teased her.

Clarice shot him another glare, "Not the point, Will. I was worried about you. And one more crack like that, I will hit you...protege and mentor relationship be damned." 

Will smiled warmly at Clarice, he had someone else that worried about him.

"What's that smile for?" She snapped.

"Nothing...I'm sorry, Clarice."

She sniffed and looked away, "Well, you should be...I'm too young to have a heart attack." Then she looked at Hannibal. "I am so sorry about my rudeness, I was panicked and wanted to get in here fast."

"It's alright, Clarice." Hannibal smiled at her. "You did knock."

"Yeah, I learned the hard way to always knock before barging into a room." Clarice said sadly before she looked at Will. "You do that again and I will chain you to me. I'll be the ol' ball and chain."

Will just laughed as Clarice made a choking motion in response, Hannibal watched their interaction with a small smile.

**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL’S ROOM**

Abigail was looking contemplatively out her window.

"They sold my parents’ house." She said.

Abigail turns to Freddie, who sits on her bed, "Murder houses don’t fetch big money in today’s real estate market."  
  
"Not that you’ll get any of it." Freddie said then adds when she noticed her look. "The families of your father’s victims filed wrongful death suits."  
  
"Wrongful death?" Abigail repeated.

"That means they get everything, Abigail. Every penny. What you have here is all you have." Freddie said.  
  
"Let them take all his money. I don’t want any of it." Abigail said.  
  
"You can make your own money." Freddie said.  
  
"How much would I get if you wrote a book about me? About my dad?" Abigail asked.

Freddie treads carefully here, "Plenty."  
  
"Do you still want to tell my story?" Abigail asked.  
  
"I think you need to tell your own story. But I’m the one to help you tell it. Nobody knows more about what your father did than I do." Freddie said.  
  
"Not even Will Graham?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Will Graham is part of the story you tell, Abigail, not the person to help you tell it." Freddie said.  
  
"He avoids me because I make him feel like my father." Abigail said.  
  
"Feeling like your father, makes him feel like a killer." Freddie said.  
  
"It’s like my dad walks beside us when we’re together. People think I helped my dad kill those girls." Abigail said.

"You can change what people think. We can change that together. Everyone will know the truth." Freddie said.  
  
"Okay. Let’s tell my story." Abigail said.

Freddie allows herself a smile, but not too big.

**B.A.U. - JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE - DAY**

Jack is reading behind his desk. A knock and he looks up to see Will at the door.  
  
"I’m sorry about yesterday." Will said.

"Sorry about what?" Jack asked confused.

Will is momentarily puzzled, but covers effectively, "I wasn’t feeling like myself."  
  
"Not feeling like yourself is the nature of what you do." Jack said.  
  
"Suppose so. I seemed fine to you?" Will asked.

Will stands there a moment, Jack studying him, "Something you want to tell me?"  
  
"No." Will answered.  
  
"Then there seems to be something you don’t want to tell me." Jack said.  
  
"I guess I just got a little lost yesterday, is all." Will said.  
  
"And where are you now?" Jack asked.  
  
"It got to me. All those bodies got to me. I thought it was more obvious than it was." Will said.

"If there’s a problem, you need to tell me. And let me help you. Is there a problem, Will?" Jack asked.  
  
"Everything’s fine." Will said.

Jack scrutinizing Will’s melancholy smile...

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY**

Will enters to find the lab is groaning under the weight of the Totem Pole bodies. Body parts and re-assembled corpses on numerous tables. A large blow-up photo of the Totem Pole Crime Scene, spaces marked for each victim ID, corresponding to tags on the body parts. Jimmy, Beverly and Brian are all in lab coats, hard at work on the jigsaw. Clarice was sitting on a stool, watching them work.  
  
"How many bodies?" Will asked.

Brian goes to the wall and pulls out a body drawer. inside is Joel Summers'. His limbs still twisted.  
  
"We got seventeen in total." Brian said.

Jimmy motioned to Joel Summers’ body, "Freshest one is Joel Summers. Forty years old, runs a cell phone store in Knoxville, Tennessee. Or did. Been missing for three days."  
  
"Single stab wound to the heart. All the other injuries are post mortem. Bones broken, hips and shoulders dislocated." Brian said.  
  
"He was special to him somehow. He held a place of honor." Will stated.  
  
"Seven bodies from unmarked graves at the crime scene - earth on the body parts matches the grave sites." Jimmy said.

"Blunt force trauma, stabbings, strangulation. Wrongful deaths." Brian said.  
  
"There are at least eight other bodies that are recent grave robbing from all across West Virginia. No crimes attributed to any of them. Accidental deaths." Beverly said.

Will shakes his head and said, "They were all murders."

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL - DAY**

Will is at the lectern, mid lecture. The eerie lights comes from the screens where pictures of the totem pole are displayed. Will clicks through images as he speaks, "...Anthony Lamb, 28, fatal car wreck, 1986." Image of a mangled car on the highway, now a still of a laughing woman, 30s. "...Francesca Bourdain, 42, suicide, pills, 1994." A picture of a man "Adrian Packham, 60, massive coronary, 2001." Another man. "Peter McGee, carbon monoxide poisoning in his home, 2006." The image of the graves in the snow. "And seven as-yet unidentified bodies buried near a beach." He looks out at rapt faces of FBI trainees as they listen and take notes. "Every death is different. Made to look like something else. No sadism, no torture. The method of these murders was less important to the killer than the simple fact that these people die." The twisted body of Joel Summers. "Joel Summers - killed by a single stab to the heart. Presented with great ostentation atop a display of all the previous victims. This killer’s design was to never be discovered. A ghost. That is what excited him. Until now... Why is he coming into the light?"

"Will?"

Will shades his eyes from the projector light.

"I don’t want to interrupt if you’re rehearsing..." Alana said trailing off.

Alana stands in the entrance of the otherwise empty and dark lecture theater. Will is thrown. Will is alone in the lecture hall. No pictures on the screens, no students. Will look at Alana and realized he has been hallucinating. So that's why he didn't see Clarice sitting among the students. He tries to hide his disorientation.  
  
"No. No... it’s okay." Will said.

She looks around the dark space, "Very moody in here."

"That’s me all over." Will said. A smile between them. And a tension. "Come on in. I promise I won’t try to kiss you again. Unless you stopped taking your own advice."

She smiles, grateful he hit it head on, "A doctor who treats herself has a fool for a patient. I regretted leaving your house the other night."  
  
"Regretted? Implying that you are no longer regretting? Or are you still in a state of regret?" Will asked.  
  
"I’m criss-crossing the state line." Alana said.  
  
"What side of the line you on now?" Will asked.  
  
"I’ve got a foot planted firmly on both sides." Alana said.  
  
"You telling me that to confuse me?" Will asked.  
  
"I’m telling you to be honest about how I feel. Don’t want to mislead you but I don’t want to lie either." Alana answered.  
  
"I won’t lie if you won’t." Will said.  
  
"I have feelings for you, Will. But I don’t want to just have an affair with you. It would be reckless." Alana said.  
  
"Why? It’s not because you have a professional curiosity about me." Will said.

"No, it’s because I think you’re unstable. And until that changes I can only be your friend." Alana said.

A deafening silence.  
  
"Thank you for not lying." Will said.  
  
"Do you feel unstable?" Alana asked. He stares at her a moment, then slowly nods. She quietly crosses to him, puts arms around him and holds him tight. "I can’t be what I want to be for you. But I am here."

Will allowed himself to be held long enough.

**HANNIBAL’S CAR**

Hannibal and Will drove in silence. Hannibal allowing Will to stare out the passenger side window without distraction. Clarice is sitting behind Will, silent but offering support with a gently hand on his shoulder as she too stared out the side window.

**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL**

"I’m trying hard to be understated when I say this is a bad idea." Will said he is with Hannibal and Abigail at the hospital. "Freddie Lounds is dangerous." Clarice is watching from close by, her blue eyes watching them.

Hannibal watches all this in silence, letting it play out.

"She said she wants me to talk about you guys in the book." Abigail said.

"You would be forfeiting your privacy and ours." Hannibal said.  
  
"My privacy’s already been forfeited." Abigail said.  
  
"This. All of this will change. Whatever you’re feeling now, it won’t last. Things change." Will said.  
  
"Yes, things change. For instance, you’re here. For a change." Abigail said.  
  
"Things are changing for me, too. Doing some accounting for what’s important in my life and what isn’t. You’re important, Abigail." Will said.  
  
"Now that I’m writing a book." Abigail said.  
  
"Abigail." Hannibal said.  
  
"I can’t help feeling some responsibility for you." Will stated.  
  
"Just because you killed my dad doesn’t mean you get to be him." Abigail said.

"Uncalled for, Abigail, Will saved your life. Your father had meant to kill you when he cut your throat." Clarice said sternly but not unkindly as she looked at Abigail.

Hannibal sees Will struggle with that and steps in, wanting to add his own comment next to Clarice's, "We’ve been through a traumatic event, no one more traumatized than you, Abigail. But we went through it together. What you write you write about all of us."  
  
"I don’t need your permission." Abigail snapped.  
  
"And you don’t need our approval. But I hope it would mean something." Hannibal said.

"And for the record, I don't want her writing about me." Clarice said. "Or you, Abigail, she won't paint you in a flattering light."

Abigail considers that, her defiance softening. Finally she said, "I know what people think I did. They’re wrong. Why can’t I tell everybody they’re wrong?"  
  
"You have _nothing_ to apologize for." Will said.

"Yet." Hannibal said Abigail glanced at Hannibal. "But if you open this door, Abigail, you won’t control what comes through. Are you ready for that?"

Abigail held Hannibal’s gaze...

**MINNESOTA WOODS**

A black figure swung a pick axe, silhouetted by a silver moon, beneath a distinctive gnarled tree amidst the white snow; it’s like an illustration in an old book of fairy tales. A pick axe hit the frozen dirt. Icy earth flew in chips under the assault as slowly the hard ground is broken. Dark earth stained pristine white snow.

Slowly the frozen face of Nick Boyle is uncovered from under the snow. His face, frozen with eyes still staring wide, is slowly revealed...

**Clarice's House**

Clarice was doing some house cleaning, listening to music as she cleaned. Salem was sleeping on the windowsill, sunbathing. She was humming along with the song that she was listening to as she cleaned.

Cleaning calmed her and helped her keep her mind off things that had been worrying her and stressing her out lately. Like how odd Will's been acting lately.


	27. Chapter 27

**Trou Normand Part 2**

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY**

Will and Clarice are watching Jimmy, Beverly and Brian at work. They look exhausted. The board now lists more names and details of victims written alongside a large photo of the totem pole. Brian wrote another name against the middle of the totem pole.

Will stepped forward. A name is now at the base of the totem pole board. “Fletcher Marshall”.  
  
"The display was built in Grafton for a reason. Totem Poles commemorate special events. They tell the story of a life. If Joel Summers is his finale, then this lowest body on the pole will be our killer’s beginning. His first." Will said.  
  
"Fletcher Marshall. Murdered in 1973. Beaten to death right in Grafton. His grave was robbed five days ago." Beverly said.

Will took that in as he asked, "No-one convicted of killing him?"  
  
"Not yet." Jimmy answered.  
  
"Our killer got away with it forty years ago." Will said.  
  
"So he kept on going." Brian said.  
  
"There will be a connection between Joel Summers and Fletcher Marshall." Will said.

Will turned as their gaze goes past him to where Jack stood behind him.  
  
"Will? Clarice?" 

He nodded him out into the corridor and goes. Will looked at the others and followed with Clarice right behind him.

"Nicholas Boyle turned up in Minnesota...."

**B.A.U. - JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE - DAY**

Jack behind his desk. Hannibal, Will and Alana sat in chairs opposite. Clarice was standing by the door, not apart of it but allowed to stay because she had been there as well. 

"...Dead. He was found in the woods. Frozen. And then he thawed out pretty fast. They couldn’t say if he died this week or six weeks ago. Or the night he disappeared."

They all look surprised, Hannibal hid his shock and concern. Alana spoke first, "How did he die?"  
  
"Knife wound. He’d been gutted." Jack answered. Hannibal doesn’t move but his sensed are on high alert now. "Had the body flown down here. I want Abigail Hobbs to identify it."  
  
You already have a positive i.d." Hannibal stated.  
  
"Not by Abigail Hobbs." Jack said.  
  
"You can’t put her in a room with Nick Boyle’s body. She already has nightmares about him." Alana said.

"I’m curious why." Jack said.

Hannibal followed this with interest.  
  
"You can’t seriously think she had anything to do with this?" Will asked.  
  
"I think she’s the common denominator. Her father, Marissa Schuur, Nick Boyle, they all come back to her. My instinct is she’s still got answers I haven’t heard." Jack answered.  
  
"What are the questions?" Will asked.  
  
"I’ll start with where she goes when she climbs the walls at the psychiatric facility. Maybe she was meeting Nick Boyle. None of us know what was really between them." Jack said.

Hannibal is tensed; Will looked angry.  
  
"I want to be on record as saying this is a very bad idea. Hannibal?" Alana said.

"Jack has the look of a man with no interest in any opinion but his own." Hannibal stated.

Jack stood up and said, "Alana. I’d like you to observe."  
  
"If you’re putting Abigail in a room with the body, I want to be there." Will said.  
  
"No. I’m not confident in your objectivity when it comes to Abigail Hobbs." Jack said. "Alana."

Will, Clarice and Hannibal watch Jack and Alana exit. After they’re gone...  
  
"He could do Abigail irreparable damage, exposing her to this." Will said.  
  
"Perhaps Abigail is stronger than you think." Hannibal said.

Clarice looked at him and said, "I hope you're right, Dr. Lecter."

He simply smiled at her, he had the most to lose if Abigail wasn't strong enough.

**B.A.U. - MORGUE**

Abigail is staring down.  
  
"...Ms Hobbs, I want you to look at this man and tell me if it’s the same one who attacked you and Dr. Bloom and Dr. Lecter in your home?" Jack asked.

Jack loomed in front of her. Between them is a gurney with a covered corpse. Alana is by Abigail’s side. Abigail’s senses are attuned here. She fights the urge to flee, she's about to face her demons. 

Jack pulled back the sheet to reveal Nick Boyle’s naked torso. He is still recognizable but he has thawed out and decomposition is setting in fast. Lesions on his face. A pink froth is visible round his lips. The long ugly wound in his abdomen is tattered and wide, the bone of his ribs is showing round the edges where decomposition has been quicker.

Abigail is hyper-aware of everything around her. The silence. The loud ticking of a wall clock. Her own breathing. Which she fights to control. She stepped forward. The ambient hum around her grows. She stared at the man she killed.

Abigail said simply, "That’s him."

Jack looked at her carefully as he said, "I’ve got a few questions I’d like you to answer."

Abigail looked at Jack and Alana. Moment of truth.

"Have you seen this man since the night he attacked you?" Jack asked.

Abigail looked up at Jack. Holds his gaze. Then looked down at the corpse.  
  
"Could you cover him up?" Abigail asked.  
  
"I need you to answer the question." Jack said.

When Jack doesn’t move, Alana goes to pull the sheet over the body but Jack stayed her hand. Eyes never leaving Abigail. She looked at them both. Eyes shining but her voice is flat.  
  
"No. I haven’t seen him since... he attacked me." Abigail said still staring down.  
  
"Nicholas Boyle was gutted. With a hunting knife. You knew how to do that? Your father taught you?" Jack asked.  
  
"Jack, I won’t be party to this..." Alana started to say.  
  
"Then leave. You’re here by invitation and courtesy, Dr. Bloom. Please don’t interrupt again." Jack snapped.

Alana is angered by this, she goes silent but doesn’t go.  
  
"You think I did this?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Where do you go when you escape your hospital, Abigail?" Jack asked.

"Sometimes into the city. Sometimes into the woods. Sometimes just out. I go get away from this, to be alone where I can think...breathe." Abigail answered.  
  
"Did you meet Nicholas Boyle? Did he know you before? Did he know your father?" Jack asked.  
  
"No." Abigail answered.  
  
"You know nothing about his death?" Jack asked.  
  
"I know he tried to kill me." Abigail said she paused a beat. "And when he was trying to kill me, all I could think was I was going to die in that house after all. But I didn’t. I survived." Abigail looked at Alana Bloom. "Dr. Bloom and Dr. Lecter saved my life. They saved me from him."  
  
"You haven’t seen this man since?" Jack asked.

Abigail looked at them both.  
  
"Only in my nightmares." She said.

Jack says nothing.

Jack and Alana watch Abigail being led away.

"Do you believe her?" Jack asked.  
  
"I think Abigail Hobbs is damaged. There is _something_  she’s using every ounce of that strength to keep buried. But it’s not the murder of Nicholas Boyle." Alana said.  
  
"How can you be so sure?" Jack asked.  
  
"Because any reservations I have about Abigail don’t extend to Hannibal Lecter. And he has no reason to lie about any of this." Alana said.

**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL’S ROOM**

Hannibal stared out the window, still wearing his coat, his back to Abigail, as she shrugged off her jacket.  
  
"It can be a comfort to see the broken, bloated corpse of a monster and know it can never come back." Hannibal mused.  
  
"Nick Boyle wasn’t a monster." Abigail said.

He finally turned to look at her.  
  
"Were you?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I sometimes feel like one." Abigail said.  
  
"Is that why you uncovered his body?" Hannibal asked.

Abigail averted her eyes, her face growing still.

Hannibal stared at Abigail until she finally meets his gaze.  
  
"Would this be a chapter in your book, Abigail?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"No, neither would killing Nick, or you helping me hide his body." Abigail said.  
  
"There’s always an addendum." Hannibal said.  
  
"FBI already asked their questions. I answered them. I passed." Abigail said.  
  
"With Jack Crawford’s attention." Hannibal said.  
  
"You’re right, I opened the door. I can’t control what comes through, but this time I could control when. I’m not afraid of them finding Nick Boyle anymore. He’s been found." Abigail said.  
  
"You betrayed my trust. You jeopardized my life as well as your own. I deserve more than that." Hannibal stated, Abigail shied away from his gaze. "I need to trust you, Abigail. What if I can’t?"

And suddenly the threat is huge in the room, Abigail looked up at Hannibal...

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY**

Jack, Clarice and Will are mid-conversation with Jimmy, Brian and Beverly who are waiting, excited.  
  
"Joel Summers, the headpiece of our totem pole, was adopted after his parents died. Guess who dad was?" Beverly asked.  
  
"Fletcher Marshall. Joel Summers is Joel Marshall." Will said.  
  
"Mother, Eleanor Marshall, died in a car accident four years after Fletcher was murdered." Brian said.  
  
"A genuine accident?" Jack asked.  
  
"If she was murdered, she would be on the Totem Pole." Beverly answered.  
  
"Unless he loved her too much to disgrace her that way." Will said. "He was closing a circle. Whatever wrong Fletcher Marshall committed, his boy was just as guilty."  
  
"We did a DNA comparison between Fletcher Marshall and Joel Summers." Jimmy said as he hands over the report. "No match."

Will and Jack are surprised.  
  
"Marshall’s son wasn’t his son." Will said.  
  
"Not biologically. But Marshall’s name is on the birth certificate." Brian said.

Will is leafing through the paperwork.  
  
"Was anyone convicted for Fletcher Marshall’s murder?" Jack asked.  
  
"A man named Laurence Wells was questioned twice in 1973. Never charged and still lives in Grafton." Beverly said.

Will looks up from the paperwork, "Is Laurence Wells color blind?" He noticed their looks. "Joel Marshall had anomalous trichromacy. Color blind in the green retinal receptors."  
  
"It’s hereditary." Brian said.  
  
"Fletcher Marshall was a crime of passion. It had something none of the other murders had. Motive." Clarice said finally breaking her silence.

**Grafton, West Virginia**

A knock on the door and it gently rolled open.

Larry's voice came within, "It’s open."

Jack looks at Will and Clarice, they draw their hand guns and push open the door. Jack and Will enter, guns at the ready with Clarice bringing up the rear.  
  
"In here. I’m unarmed." Larry said.

Jack slides, gun first into the living room to find Larry Wells, 70, trim, lean, sitting in an armchair. Dressed in black. He’s a practical man, his life already packed up.  
  
"You were expecting us." Jack said.

Larry Wells puts his hands on the arms of the chair. Smiles.  
  
"I had every faith you’d find me." Larry said.  
  
"And why is that Mr. Wells?" Will asked.  
  
"Because I let you. That last one was... let’s just say it’s a good thing it was the last one. I don’t have the fight in me anymore." Larry said.  
  
"Are you confessing to the murder of Joel Summers?" Jack asked.  
  
"And Fletcher Marshall and fifteen others. I assume you got them all counted up by now." Larry said.  
  
"You killed Joel Summers just so you’d get caught." Will said.  
  
"Not just. I killed Joel Summers because he should have never been." Larry corrected.  
  
"What reason did you have to kill the others?" Jack asked.  
  
"I had every reason to kill them, they just had no reason to die." Larry said. "No one ever saw me coming unless I wanted them to see me coming. I could smile and wave at a lady, chew the fat in church, knowing I’d killed her husband. There’s something beautiful about sitting in the ball of silence at a funeral, all of those people around you and knowing you made it happen."  
  
"You’re going to die in prison." Jack said.

Larry Wells smiled and said, "Do I look wealthy to you? Prison will be a luxury next to the sort of retirement home I can afford. And I certainly won’t be forgotten there. I’m securing my legacy."  
  
"It’s one way to be remembered. No children to tell your story. Did Joel Summers remember his father?" Will asked.  
  
"Not anymore." Larry stated.  
  
"Did you have an affair with Eleanor Marshall before you killed her?" Jack asked but silence met his question. "I’ll assume from your silent hesitation that is a yes."  
  
"He’s your son. Joel Summers." Will said.  
  
"What?" Larry asked.  
  
"You thought the woman you loved was having Fletcher Marshall’s baby when she should’ve been having yours." Will said.  
  
"You were wrong." Jack said.  
  
"Eleanor chose to raise him as Fletcher Marshall’s child rather than yours. Maybe she saw what’s in your heart." Will said.

"You didn’t secure your legacy, Mr. Wells, you murdered it." Jack said.  
  
"Your only act as a father was to destroy your son." Clarice said now looking at Larry, disgusted by him.

Laurence Wells is silent, the truth of this hitting him hard.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's her outfit https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/eb/8e/55/eb8e551988c9a4dedd8c4ea1b9b71ecf.jpg

**Trou Normand Part 3**

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - NIGHT**

_The lights are low, the room dark, a curtain wrapped around the metal table displaying Nick Boyle's corpse._  
  
_He looked over the body, sees the bloodless gash in his torso, ribs poking out where decomposition has taken hold. Nick Boyle comes towards Will. His face grey and marked by lesions. Will then closes his eyes._  
  
_The morgue darkens, the light reflected on the curtains shifts and changes tone._  
  
_He opens his eyes and watches as Nick Boyle's corpse sits upright and swings his legs off the slab._

_His feet stretch to the floor, but they are now wearing boots. He is fully clothed, dressed as he was the night he died. He stands and is face-to-face with Will. And then Nick Boyle looks agonized. He and Will look down to see Will holds a knife in Nick Boyle’s wound. Will blinks slowly and he looks down, and now the knife sticks out of Will's torso. Held by bloody hands.._

_He has reversed positions with Nick Boyle. Will looks up from the knife in his guts to find it is held by Abigail Hobbs. Will stares at Abigail and he blinks._

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT**  
  
Hannibal watched Will, who stared into middle distance. An overwhelming sadness hangs over him, then Will said, "Abigail Hobbs killed Nick Boyle."

Hannibal held his gaze and said, "Yes, I know."  
  
"Tell me why you know." Will said.  
  
"I helped her dispose of the body." Hannibal said.  
  
"Evidently not well enough." Will said.  
  
"Have you told Jack Crawford?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"No." Will said. "And I haven't told Clarice either."  
  
"Why not?" Hannibal asked leaving the question open to be answered for both if Will wanted.  
  
"I was hoping it wasn’t true." Will said. "And Clarice seems to like her."  
  
"Now you know the truth." Hannibal said. "I can tell her if you like, she probably wouldn't be so hurt to hear it from someone who isn't so close to her."  
  
"Do I?" Will asked. "If you think that's for the best since I don't think I know everything."  
  
"Everything you know about that night is true. Except the end. Nicholas Boyle attacked us. Abigail’s only crime was to defend herself and I lied about it." Hannibal said.  
  
"Why?" Will asked.  
  
"You know why. Jack Crawford would hang her for what her father’s done. The world would burn Abigail in his place. That would be the story. That would be what Freddie Lounds writes." Hannibal said. "Abigail is no more a killer than you are for shooting her father or I am for the death of Tobias Budge."

Will is moved but fights his instinct as a cop.  
  
"It’s not our place to decide." Will said.  
  
"If not ours, then whose? Who knows Abigail better than you and I? Or the burden she bears? We are her fathers now. We have to serve her better than Garret Jacob Hobbs." Hannibal said as he crosses to his drawing table. Scalpel within reach. "If you go to Jack, then you murder Abigail’s future. If she is ever to have the life she deserves, then we have to tell no one." Will nods his head, barely aware he’s doing it. "Do I need to call my lawyer?" Will looks up. A long beat. Then he shakes his head. "What we’re doing here is the right thing, Will. For Abigail. In time, this will be the only story any of us cares to tell."

Will sat and Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder...

**Clarice's House**

Clarice looked up when she heard her cell phone go off, she picked it up and looked to see that she had received a text. She tapped it to see who it was from, an unknown smile curled her lips when it saw that it was from Hannibal.

She read the message.

'This isn't our dinner date but I would like you to come over for dinner...wear something nice, Clarice.'

Clarice stared at the message before she shrugged her shoulders and sent a message back, saying 'okay and I'll see you soon.' before she stands up and walked to her room to shower and get ready.

**Hannibal's Home Night**

A knock sounded on the door and Hannibal paused in his cooking to go answer it, smiling when he saw that it was Clarice. She was wearing a brown and black wrap dress under a black dress coat with her hair done and she wore light make up. She had a smaller bandage on her forehead, over her injury but even with that she was still lovely. 

"Hello, Clarice. Please come in." Hannibal said as he moved to the side to allow her entry into his home. 

"Thanks." Clarice said as she stepped passed him, putting down a wine bottle and her purse before she reached up to take off her coat. Hannibal moved to stand behind her and helped her out of the coat. "Oh, thank you."

"You're welcome." Hannibal said as he hanged up her coat before he picked up the wine. "Cabernet Sauvignon...is this from your mother?"

"How did you know?" Clarice asked as she followed him.

"You seemed to be a Merlot drinker." Hannibal said smiling at her.

"Heh, that's true." Clarice said. "So who else is coming?"

"Will...Ms. Lounds and Abigail." Hannibal said in an almost off hand manner as he puts the wine away.

Clarice snapped her head towards him and said, "Why? What's going on?"

"What I am going to tell you is to remain between us, Clarice." Hannibal said as he walked towards her. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Depends on the secret." Clarice said as she eyed him but doesn't step away not even when he's in her personal space. She kept a lot of secrets for people.

"Abigail killed Nicholas Boyle and I helped her dispose of the body." Hannibal said going straight to the point.

Clarice blinked owlishly at him, stunned before she shook her head as if to clear it, "Come again?"

"I said Abigail killed Nicholas Boyle and I helped her dispose of the body." He repeated.

"That's what I thought you said." Clarice said as she rubbed her forehead wincing when she hit the still healing wound on her temple. "And why are you telling me this? Does Will know?"

"Yes, he was the one that found out."

"I see...I don't know how I should react." Clarice said. "I am angry and confused."

"Now you know the truth." Hannibal said. "And don't be angry at her, it was my idea to keep it a secret. She wanted to tell people."

"Do I?" Clarice asked. "Really?"

"Yes, Everything you know about that night is true. Except the end. Nicholas Boyle attacked us. Abigail’s only crime was to defend herself and I lied about it." Hannibal said.

"Why?" Clarice asked as she looked at him. Looking for any signs of deceit but there was none, Hannibal made sure there was none and he would never lie to Clarice about anything. 

"You know why. Jack Crawford would hang her for what her father’s done. The world would burn Abigail in his place. That would be the story. That would be what Freddie Lounds writes." Hannibal said. "Abigail is no more a killer than Will are for shooting her father or I am for the death of Tobias Budge."

Clarice is moved but fights her instinct as a cop. She understands what Hannibal is saying but she was taught something else in the Academy.

"It’s not our place to decide." Clarice said unknowingly repeating what Will had said earlier that same day.

"If not ours, then whose? Who knows Abigail better than you and I? Or the burden she bears? We are her family now. We have to serve her better than Garret Jacob Hobbs." Hannibal said as he moves closer to her, crowding her against the wall behind her. Clarice's eyes widen in surprise but she allows it to happen. "If you go to Jack, then you murder Abigail’s future. If she is ever to have the life she deserves, then we have to tell no one." Clarice nods her head, barely aware she’s doing it. "Do I need to call my lawyer?" Clarice looked up at him in a long, silent beat then she shakes her head. "What we’re doing here is the right thing, Clarice. For Abigail. In time, this will be the only story any of us cares to tell."

She is silent as she stared at him, blue eyes scanning his face before she sighed and nodded her head, "Alright..."

"Good...would you like to help me prepare dinner, Clarice?" Hannibal asked smiling as he took a step back from her.

Clarice discreetly sighed in relief when he moved away from her before she nodded her head and followed him into the kitchen to help him prepare the dinner. They worked together in silence, Hannibal watched her move from the corner of his eyes. Clarice knew how to cook, she had received culinary training from someone during her life.

"Who taught you how to cook?" Hannibal asked.

"Hm?" She said distracted and looked at him.

"Who taught you how to cook?" He repeated his question.

"The head chef at my mother's summer home." Clarice said. "He said that I would need this skill if I wanted to attract a husband. The way to a man's heart is through is stomach."

Hannibal chuckled and said, "It's a nice skill to have."

"Yeah and I developed a love for it." Clarice said smiling.

"So whenever I needed help, I can call on you?"

Clarice smiled at him and said, "Sure but not an ungodly hours, Doctor Lecter...I would hate to have to find a new doctor when I just started to get used to you."

Hannibal smiled at her joking tone, charmed by both the woman and it. 

\--  
  
Three sets of cutlery slice through delicately garnished plates of food, cutting meat that leaks red juices. A fourth knife worked through salad leaves.

"I feel terrible, Miss Lounds. Never entered my head you might be a vegetarian. A lapse on my behalf." Hannibal said.

Freddie sits next to Abigail at Hannibal’s table. Hannibal is at the head with Will opposite Freddie. Clarice sits next to Hannibal on the other side, across from Abigail. Abigail eats with her head down, Hannibal watches Will.  
  
"Or a subtle way to set the power dynamic for this little soiree. Research always delivers benefits." Freddie said.  
  
"And if it contradicts a good story, hell, just publish it anyway?" Will asked.  
  
"Are you still angry because I called you insane? The libel laws are clear, Mr. Graham." Freddie said.

Clarice doesn't say anything, she only stared at Freddie as she cut into her meat and slipped the speared meat into her mouth. Like Hannibal, she had elegant table manners which gave away her up bringing in a wealthy home.  
  
"Insinuation is such a grey area." Will said.  
  
"Insane isn’t really black and white, is it? We’re all pathological in our own ways." Freddie said.  
  
"You decide on the version of the truth that suits you and then pursue it pathologically." Will said.  
  
"Everybody decides their our own versions of the truth. I’m here because I want to tell Abigail’s version of the truth." Freddie said.  
  
Will considered that and said, "See that you do."

"I guess we'll see when you write it, Ms. Lounds." Clarice said smiling.  
  
"I don’t have anything to hide." Abigail said.

Clarice looked at her and smiled gently.  
  
"Everybody has something to hide, but I’m not going to write about anything you don’t want me to." Freddie said.

Will looked at her and bite his tongue. Clarice lifted an eyebrow at that but she doesn't say anything, she simply continues to eat elegantly.  
  
"You must understand our concerns. We care about Abigail. Our only thought is to protect her." Hannibal said.

Will looked at Hannibal and then looked at Abigail before looking down. Still struggling with his new knowledge. Clarice is watching Will silently, knowing that he is feeling conflicted just like she was.  
  
"She’s already exposed. Her silence until now has been taken as guilt. This book is about her innocence. I want Abigail to have a future." Freddie said.  
  
"That’s what we all want." Will said.  
  
"Then we aren’t so different after all, Mr. Graham." Freddie said.  
  
"We all want what’s best for Abigail."

He smiled at them all, Will looked down. Freddie leaned back.  
  
"This is possibly the finest salad I’ve ever eaten in my life. Shame to ruin it with all that meat."

\------  
  
Hands wash the dirty plates. Pass them across the sink. Hannibal and Abigail washing the dishes in silence. Abigail dries and sighs, a deep breath.  
  
"Will knows, doesn’t he?" Abigail asked. "And Clarice too?"  
  
"He knows you killed Nicholas Boyle." Hannibal said. "And I just told Clarice not long before you arrived."  
  
"What am I going to do?" Abigail asked. "Was she angry?"  
  
"He will keep our secret." Hannibal said. "She will too. Yes but she understands why."  
  
"You don’t know that." Abigail said.  
  
"He will keep it because otherwise the one good thing in his life is tainted. He will lie to Jack Crawford about you just as he has lied to himself." Hannibal said, she shudders and silent tears fall. It’s like all the adrenaline and tension is finally leaving her body. "You’re safe, Abigail. No one will know what you did. And no one will know the truth you’re trying to avoid. The one you cannot admit even to yourself."

Hannibal waited. Abigail took another plate, she dried it then put it down and then just leaned against the sink, head down.

Abigail whispered, "I helped him."  
  
"I can’t hear you." Hannibal said.

A sudden sob from Abigail.  
  
"I helped him." Abigail said and then she starts to cry, a storm of tears a long time coming. A wave of self-loathing and pent-up fear. "I knew what my father was. I knew what he did. I knew." Then added quieter. "I was the one who met the girls, talked to them. Laughed and joked. Found out where they lived, where they were going, when they’d be alone. Girls who looked like me. They could have been my friends." She looks up at Hannibal. "I couldn’t tell him no." Abigail is totally broken down here, the horror of what she was made to do hitting home. "I knew... I knew it was them or me."

She looks at Hannibal, pleading, raw, broken. And now he comes to her and holds her, he strokes her hair.  
  
"I wondered when you’d tell me." Hannibal said gently.

Abigail stunned, asked, "How long have you..."  
  
"I always suspected." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’m a monster." Abigail said.  
  
"No. I know what monsters are...you’re a victim and Will Graham, Clarice Starling and I, we’re going to protect you..." Hannibal said.  
  
_**As Abigail Hobbs stops at a table and smiles down at Elise Nichols.**_  
  
_**"Mind if I sit?" Abigail asked**_  
  
_**"Go ahead." Elise said.**_  
  
_**"I hate traveling by myself." Abigail said as she sat down.**_  
  
_**"I love it." Elise said.**_  
  
_**"Where you going?" Abigail asked.**_

_**They could be sisters. As Abigail sits and they smile at each other, Garret Jacob Hobbs sitting a few seats down the aisle. The train rattles along and through the window Abigail and Elise talking and laughing at the table. Garret Jacob Hobbs watches them. His eye catches Abigail’s gaze for a second as Elise Nichols laughs, unaware of what awaits...** _

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to say it again: Clarice and Hannibal are a better love story than Twilight! Well, this version of them are lol

**Buffet Froid Part 1**

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Will sits opposite Hannibal, mid-therapy, "I feel my nerves clicking like roller coaster cogs pulling up to the inevitable long plunge."  
  
"Quick sounds. Quickly ended." Hannibal said.  
  
"Abigail ended Nicholas Boyle like a burst balloon. She took a life." Will said.  
  
"You’ve taken a life." Hannibal replied.  
  
"So have you." Will stated.  
  
"You’re grieving, Will. Not for the life you have taken, but for the life that was taken from you." Hannibal said. "If Abigail could have started over, left the horror of her father behind, so could’ve you. You could untangle yourself from the madness and the murder, clear your mind."  
  
"My mind has never been clear." Will said.  
  
"And now you fear it never will." Hannibal said.  
  
"We lied for her." Will said. "Lying goes against Clarice's personality. This will bother her."

"We both know the unreality of taking a life, of people who die when we have no other choice. We know in those moments they’re not flesh, but light and air and color." Hannibal said.  
  
"Isn’t that what it is to be alive." Will said.  
  
"Do you feel alive, Will?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I feel like I’m fading." Will answered.  
  
"Have you experienced any further loss of time... or hallucinations." Hannibal said. A slow, quiet nod. "I’d like you to draw a clock face. Numbered. Large hand indicating the hour, small hand the minute."  
  
"Why?" Will asked.  
  
"An exercise. Nothing more. I want you to remember a present moment. The now. Often as you can, think of where you are and when." Hannibal said.  
  
"This feels like you’re tying mittens to my coat sleeves." Will quipped.  
  
"Indulge me." Hannibal said and handed Will a notebook and pen. Will quickly draws a circle, numbers, with the clock hands indicating the time is just after 7:15 PM. Through Will’s eyes, it's a normal clock. "Think of the time. Think of where you are. Think of who you are."

"It’s 7:16 PM. I’m in Baltimore, Maryland. My name is Will Graham." Will said out loud.  
  
"A simple reminder. A handle to reality for you to hold onto." Hannibal said. The clock Will Graham has drawn is a circle with all of the numbers and hands stacked on one side. The other side of the circle is completely empty. Crowded numbers are Dahli-esque. This is not a normal clock. Something is wrong with Will. "And know you are alive."

~~

Clarice sat in the chair that Will was sitting in not so long ago, her eyes were on Hannibal as they stared at each other in comfortable silence.

"Can you tell me about your two previous lovers?" Hannibal asked. "You mentioned them before."

She frowned a bit and asked, "Why?"

"To see just how broken you think you are."

Clarice stared at him silently before she shrugged her shoulders and said, "Alright, my first boyfriend was a surgeon named David Anderson we dated about a year before we were...intimate." 

"Why did you break up?"

"Made the mistake of sleeping when he did and I had awoken quite violently from a nightmare." Clarice explained. "And after I told him why, he figured that I was too broken to marry or something."

"And the second one?" 

"Mmm, John Matthews." Clarice said with a small nod. "He lasted longer, by two years but it had ended the same way, sort of. I told him why I didn't like sleeping with him in the same bed and then he cheated on me with a coworker of his after he stopped sleeping with me...found that out when I walked in on him and her in the middle of it. He took off so fast that he left skid marks on my heart, though that was probably because I was throwing stuff at him..."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Clarice." Hannibal said. "You deserved better." If he was to ever learn where these men lived, he would kill them for what they did to her.

Clarice shrugged her shoulders as though that it didn't bother her and said, "It's fine, they taught me to guard my heart a little better around men."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, they taught me that no one would love a broken woman." Clarice said. "So I keep my distance from men who are romantically interested in me, it's better to do that then to allow them into my heart and allow them to break it again."

"You're not broken, Clarice." Hannibal said gently. "You're injured but not broken."

Clarice stared at him silently before she allowed the smile that she was keeping down to curl her lips up, grateful towards Doctor Lecter. Hannibal returned her smile.

**GREENWOOD, DELAWARE**

A lonely house sits far from the main road, far from the hustle and bustle of city life. A garden gnome it made of graying cement, its face and hands are lifted skyward as it stands among the bramble. Half its smiling face is missing. The other half is streaked with filth and dirt.

Beth Lebeau eases out of her car. She’s 30’s, with natural, easy beauty. Beth toward her front door, lamps strung in the towering pine trees providing a spooky back-light to the surrounding woods. She glances at the garden shed at the end of the driveway, its doors closed against the weather.

The house a ramshackle turn-of-the-century Victorian. Beth slogs the remaining steps to the door and takes out the key. 

Beth pours birdseed into a small container in a canary cage, whistling as she invites the bird to do the same. The canary sings.

The weathered garden shed. In the utter blackness, rain begins to spatter through its now open doors.  
  
The house is comfy, the bedroom decorated with equestrian mementos and photos of Beth’s friends and family. Beth entered dressed for bed, snuggles under the covers as the wind and rain create havoc outside. Drowsy. Her fingers reach for the switch on the bedside lamp. She clicks it off and blackness envelopes the room. A small thud from up above.

Beth turns on the lamp. She stares up at the ceiling. Drip, drip, drip. Slow motion. Small pools of water seep through the planked ceiling. A series of wet pools form in haphazard order. One after another. Almost like footsteps. A roof leak maybe? Beth yanks off the covers. What now? She reaches into her bedside table to retrieve a flashlight.  
  
Beth reaches for a small cord that dangles from the ceiling.The ceiling ladder swings down. Beth manages to navigate the steps with flashlight in hand. The sound of swirling wind floats down from above, a sudden blast of cold air. She climbed the attic ladder. Curious.

The flashlight illumines dusty boxes and broken furniture, casting strange shadows as Beth moves stealthily through the attic, eyes keen, flashlight swiveling. She shivers against the cold. Then understands why a portion of the roof has collapsed inward under the weight of snow. Snow and water commingle on the attic floor, presumably the source of the strange “water pools” on her bedroom ceiling.

Beth inside looking through the hole to reveal footprints in the snow, darting across the roof. Beth staples a TARP over the entrance of the hole in the roof. Beth strategically places empty pails beneath the leaking roof. For the moment, problem solved. Time for bed.  
  
Beth climbs back down, closes the attic door. Beth enters from the hall with her flashlight. She freezes in place. In a lazy path from the doorway to her bed are more pools of water. Her shoulders slump. This old house.

She track the wet poodles, which are amorphous puddles until the final one before her bed. It was a wet human footprint. Reversing, Beth stared at the footprint. Weird. Maybe even a bit scary. But the bed is empty. And a woman who lives alone in the woods doesn’t scare easy. She follows the trail of footprint shaped puddles of water to the bed. She moves closer, closer, when a gnarled hand from under the bed grabs Beth’s leg, yanking her to the floor. She screamed as she’s pulled into the darkness under the bed; but the scream turns to a wet gurgle as blood sprays like a Chinese fan across the floor.

**MOSSY CREEK - VIRGINIA - DAY**

A rainbow trout lazes twenty feet beneath the water, fluorescent scales shimmering. A nymph fly, a lure, plunged into the water. The trout shimmies toward its prey. Will stands waist-deep in the creek, wearing waders and a fly vest. His rod, reel, line and leader are in hand. He reels in his line and comes up with nothing. Will studies the water like a seasoned pro, searching for fish bubbles and seams between fast and slow currents. He “hunts” for his prey rather than cast away blindly.  
  
The rainbow trout lunges for the lure. 

Will Graham deftly played his fish. Rod tip up, he doesn’t muscle the fish but allows him to run till he tires. Despite the struggle, Will is in repose: one could even say at peace. Wider, as Will Graham allows the fish to run, then reels in, lets the fish run again, reels again. He grabs a fishing net from his vest, scoops the fish into the net.

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY**

Will unloads his fishing supplies from the car, walking to the front door carrying several fish on a chain of hooks.

A successful day.

Will has the rainbow trout inverted on a plank covered with newspaper. Beside him is a cooler with ice.

His gutting knife splits the fish from the base to gills. As fish blood seeps from the stroke, the blood quickly blooms into an enormous puddle. 

The ceiling drips. Will is on his hands and knees in a pool of blood as it blooms into an enormous puddle spanning across a hardwood floor. It spans from under the bed to the center of the room, where it pools in a ghastly crimson circle.  
  
Will is kneeling. The fish is gone, as is the fisherman’s knife. He now holds a farrier's hoof knife in one hand, his other hand is holding down Beth Lebeau, who stares at him through a sheen of crimson.

She has a glasgow smile, a jagged slash from the corners of her mouth drawn all the way to her ears. She chokes and sputters, her mouth and throat full of blood from her facial wounds, drowning on her own body fluid.

Will's heartbeat pounds loud as Beth LeBeau finally dies under him. Thoughts race in his head. Where is he? Did he do this? Horror and confusion on his face. Is it possible? Could he have killed this woman in some sort of trance? What’s apparent is that Will has no memory of coming to this crime scene.

Horrified, Will scuttles away from the body.

Attempting to stand, he slips in the blood and braces himself against the bed, leaving a smeared hand print on the sheets. He's in shock. The blood. The body. The knife. The hand print. What has he done? Overwhelmed, he turns and moves quickly for the door.  
  
The bedroom door is flung open. Seconds later, a panicked Will races out into the hallway, still holding the blade, and freezes. To his surprise, Jack, Brian, Jimmy, Clarice and Beverly are all waiting outside. Everyone stares at Will, taken aback by his appearance.  
  
"Will?" Beverly asked concerned.

Clarice moved towards Will silently and concerned.

He doesn’t answer. Just stares, discombobulated. Jack is also concerned...  
  
Jack watches as Will attempts to scrub the blood from his hands in the kitchen sink. Will is aware of Jack’s stare but says nothing. Jack takes a calming breath and steps outside. Jack stares into the open fields surrounding the modest farm house. Clarice is standing close by, he could tell that she had questions going through her head that she wanted to ask but she kept silent. Will walks out the kitchen door, drying his hands.

A quiet moment, then Jack said, "I’m going to ask you a question and if I think for a moment you’re withholding anything from me, I cannot guarantee a calm response." There was a pause. "What happened in there?"  
  
"I got confused." Will said.

"I’ve seen you confused before. I’ve seen you upset. I’ve never seen you afraid like you were." Jack said.  
  
"I’m an old hand at fear. I can manage this one. I was just disoriented. I can go back in." Will said.  
  
"I saw your face when you walked out of that room. What you experienced in there stunned you silent." Jack said.  
  
"I can see and hear better afraid. Just can’t speak as concisely." Will said.  
  
"You contaminated the crime scene." Jack said.

Will stops dodging and finally admits, "I thought I was responsible for it."  
  
"You thought you killed that woman?" Jack asked.  
  
"Sometimes with what I do..." Will said.  
  
"What you do is take whatever evidence there is and extrapolate. You reconstruct the thinking of a killer, not think you are a killer." Jack said.  
  
"I got lost in the reconstruction. Just for a second. Just a blink." Will said.  
  
"I know you don’t like to be a subject of concern, but consider me officially concerned." Jack said.  
  
"Officially." Will said.  
  
"That’s right." Jack said.

"Thought the reason you have me seeing Dr. Lecter and not an FBI psychiatrist is so my mental well being stays unofficial." Will said.

The truth of that stings more than Jack anticipated, "Have I broken you?"

Will ignored the question, "Do you have anybody that does this better unbroken than I do broken?"

Jack eyes Will, then said, "Fear makes you rude, Will." Jack doesn't take his eyes off Will Graham...

Jack follows Will into the crime scene, Beth LeBeau dead on the floor, the ceiling continues to drip around her. Brian kneels over the body, studying the facial wounds. Beverly stoops next to claw marks on the floor. Clarice had silently followed after Will and Jack but her mentor knew that she will be asking him questions after this, when they were alone.  
  
"She drowned on her own blood." Beverly said.  
  
"What she didn’t drown on is all over the floor and under the bed. She was trying to hide from him." Jimmy said.  
  
"She was dragged there. He was under the bed waiting for her." Will said.

Beverly plucks a broken fingernail out of the wood and said, "Fought to claw her way out."

Will glances at the framed pictures scattered on the dresser tops. Every picture is smashed. Every face, torn and damaged beyond the simple recognition of fractured smiles.

"He knew her. Or thought he did. It’s someone who cared about her."

Beverly checks the fingers for the one missing a nail and said, "He cared too much."

"Way too much." Clarice whispered.  
  
"We’re looking at boyfriends, exboyfriends, co-workers, the guy who bags her groceries." Jack said.

Jimmy dusts the farrier's hoof knife and said, "I’ve got one clean set of fingerprints on the knife handle." He looked at Will. "I assume they’re yours."  
  
"Sorry." Will said.  
  
"There’s other dermal tissue, presumably from the killer, but the skin is so diseased or damaged it didn’t leave any usable prints." Jimmy said.

Beverly studying fingernails and said, "Victim scratched her killer deep enough to pile tissue under her fingernails but never drew blood."  
  
"Why doesn’t he bleed?" Jack asked.

Will looks down at the horror of the woman with a jagged, cruel mouth. Brian studies the wounds and said, "After he cut up the victim’s face, it looks like he was trying to pull the skin back."  
  
"Like he was removing a mask." Will said.

Afterwards, Clarice and Will were driving...apparently he had driven with Jack earlier to the crime scene but when he made a motion to drive back with Jack, Clarice had grabbed his arm in a firm grip before she told Jack that she'll be taking Will back with her.

The woman is silent as she drove before she broke the silence, "Will, I want you to tell me what's wrong with you and don't lie to me by saying you're fine because you and I both know that's bullshit."

Underneath her calm and even tone was a hint of anger and worry, her eyes stayed on the road as her knuckles turned white when she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Will took all of this in and sighed heavily, "I thought you weren't going to ask..."

"Oh, I was but only after you got over with whatever it was that was bothering you." Clarice said. "And you're not so I decided to ask you now."

Will is silent then he said, "Thank you, Clarice..." Then he proceeded to tell her everything that has been happening with him. When he was done, the car is filled with thoughtful silence from the woman driving.

"So your hallucinations about hearing animals in distressed saved our lives." Clarice mused thoughtfully.

"And got two officers killed." Will stated as he stared out the passenger window.

"...Tobias would have killed us as well, Will." Clarice. "It wouldn't have mattered if you had gone to see if a dog was hit or not...that was proven when we had returned and gone down into the basement." She sent a quick glance at him. "And Tobias got was coming to him in the end...though being hit by a metal stag statue probably wasn't what I had in mind for him."

Will is silent.

"And when you arrived at Hannibal's office, you had lost track of time." Clarice stated. "And it had happened again today at the crime scene, you forgotten about arriving at the crime scene."

Nothing from Will but she was expecting that.

Clarice glanced at him once more and said, "Should I start going the killer's mind now?"

"No, I don't want this to happen to you as well."

"...No offense, Will but I won't let that happen." Clarice said. "I am too stubborn to let my own ability control my life...and so are you." Will looked at her then. "We can get through this together, you and I." 

Clarice smiled at him and this time, Will returned it.

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Will paces. Hannibal regards him with true concern. Clarice is waiting outside the room despite the fact that she now knows what's going on with her mentor, she had opted to wait for her turn.  
  
"I still have the coppery smell of blood on my hands. I can’t remember seeing her dead body before I saw myself killing her." Will said.  
  
"Those memories sank out of sight, yet you’re aware of their absence." Hannibal said.  
  
"They left a slick on the surface of my mind where they’re supposed to be." Will said.  
  
"Where you hope they’re supposed to be, but fear they never were." Hannibal said.

Will is haunted by his “false memories” of murder, "There’s a grandiosity in the violence I imagined that feels more real than what I know is true."   
  
"What do you know to be true?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I know I didn’t kill her. Couldn’t have. But I remember cutting into her. I remember watching her die." Will said.  
  
"You must overcome these delusions that are disguising your reality." Hannibal said. "What savage delusions does this killer have?"

"It wasn’t savage. It was lonely...desperate... sad." Will answered.  
  
"Are you lonely, Will?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked through me, past me. Like I was a stranger." Will said.  
  
"You have to honestly confront your limitations with what you do and how it affects you." Hannibal said.  
  
"If by limitations you mean the difference between sanity and insanity... I don’t accept that." Will said.  
  
"What do you accept?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I know what kind of crazy I am and this is not that kind of crazy. This could be seizures. This could be a tumor. A blood clot." Will said.  
  
"I can recommend a neurologist." Hannibal said. "But if it isn’t physiological, then you have to accept what you’re struggling with is mental illness."

Will looks away, fearing that he is losing his mind.

~~~~~~~

Clarice is pacing, her hands unclenching and clenching into fists. Hannibal is sitting in his chair, watching her concerned about her behavior.

"How did you feel when you found out that Will was keeping this from you?"

She looked at him and said, "I felt many emotions but the two that stood the most was hurt and worry...and anger."

"Who were these emotions directed to, Clarice?"

"Hurt and worry was directed towards Will, he was suffering through this alone."

"And anger?"

"That was directed towards me."

"Why?"

"Because I had assumed that it was nothing and didn't ask what was wrong because I didn't want to bother him." Clarice said. "I was wrong and it was only today that I had even thought to question him about it...I am such an idiot." Her voice broke at the end and she sat down on the couch, placing her hands over her face as her shoulders shook with her silent tears.

Hannibal stood up silently and walked over to her, sitting down gently and wrapping an arm around her to bring her against him. Clarice stiffened at his touch at first but then she lowered her hands and pressed her face against his chest as she started to cry in earnest now. Hannibal gently started to stroke her hair, comforting the distorted woman.

After a while, she started to calm down and she sighed shakily before she pulled away from him. "Sorry, I normally have a much better control over my emotions." Clarice said as she wiped her tears away. "Well, I try to but sometimes something happens that sets me off."

"It's alright, Clarice."

"And I got your jacket wet." Clarice said as she lightly touched the wet spot with her finger tips.

Hannibal looked down before he looked back at her, "It's quite alright, you were distressed and no man alive would want to see a beautiful woman such as yourself cry."

Again Clarice gave him the same look that she had given when he had first flirted with her, as if she was trying to figure out if he meant it or not.

It didn't surprise him that she decided to altogether ignore the 'such as yourself' part of his sentence. 

"Thank you." Clarice said instead, smiling at him. "I actually feel a lot better now."

"Maybe you needed a good cry." Hannibal said smiling back at her. "If you should ever feel that need again then let me know and I will gladly offer you my chest again."

"....And have me ruin yet another jacket? No, thanks those things look expensive." Clarice quipped smiling.

Hannibal smiled at her and said, "They're just clothing and I would not mind in the slightest."

Clarice stared at him silently before she slowly nodded, "Alright, I'll hold you to that but I better not see a dry cleaner bill in my mail, Doctor Lecter."

The man and woman shared another smile.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't about you but Animals by Maroon 5 seemed to fit Hannibal very well, at least to me and I was watching the music video and kept seeing Clarice and Hannibal...

**Buffet Froid Part 2**

**PRIVATE MEDICAL CENTER - DAY**

Early morning. An upscale modern Baltimore medical office. Will, Clarice and Hannibal are seated in the swank office of Dr. Donald Sutcliffe, 40’s, a vain and brilliant man who treats others rudely unless he respects them. Thus Hannibal receives the utmost professional courtesy.  
  
"You’re in very good hands. Dr. Lecter is the sanest man I know." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"I would agree." Hannibal said then he looked to Will and Clarice. "Dr. Sutcliffe and I were residents together at Hopkins."  
  
"Another life ago. When you didn’t mind getting your hands dirty." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"I was always drawn to how the mind works. I found it much more dynamic than how the brain works." Hannibal said.  
  
"The projected image is more interesting than the projector until the projector breaks down." Dr. Sutcliffe said then, to Will. "Any family history of brain disease?"  
  
"Not that I’m aware of." Will answered.  
  
"I guess we’ll find out." Dr Sutcliffe said. "How about accidents, head traumas? Even if you’ve had a slip and fall?"  
  
"I had one or two violent encounters. Basic blunt trauma." Will said.

"Ever checked for concussion?" Dr. Sutcliffe asked.  
  
"No." Will answered.  
  
"You will be today. When did the headaches start? In earnest?" Dr. Sutcliffe answered.  
  
"Two to three months ago." Will said.  
  
"About the time Will went back into the field, which is when I met him." Hannibal said.  
  
"The hallucinations?" Dr. Sutcliffe asked.  
  
"I don’t know exactly when they started. I just slowly became aware that I might not be dreaming." Will answered honestly.

Hannibal regards Will with curiosity while Clarice regards him with worry...

**Exam Room**

Dr. Sutcliffe hands Will a paper hospital gown and said, "When you’re ready, we’re going to slide you into a giant nuclear magnet and see what we can see."

Will’s only response is a blink. Dr. Sutcliffe shuts the door and Will begins to disrobe.

**MRI EXAM ROOM**

Will is on the sliding tray of the MRI tube. Blue gown, a surface coil (radio antennae) placed around Will’s head. Will doesn’t look comfortable at all. Especially as the whir of the MRI machinery begins.

~~~

"It’s encephalitis." Hannibal said he examines the diplomas on Sutcliffe’s wall.  
  
"That’s your pre-diagnosis?" Dr. Sutcliffe asked.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Based on?" Dr. Sutcliffe asked.  
  
"I could smell it." Hannibal answered.  
  
"Your sense of smell has gone from calling out a nurse’s perfume to diagnosing autoimmune disease." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"He started sleepwalking and I noticed a very specific scent." Hannibal said.  
  
"What does encephalitis smell like?" Dr. Sutcliffe asked curious. "Did the young woman smell like anything?"  
  
"It has heat. A fevered sweetness." Hannibal answered. "No, she smelled like her normal scent and perfume."  
  
"If you suspected, why didn’t you say something?" Dr. Sutcliffe asked.  
  
"Had to be sure. Symptoms began slow and gradually worsened. Yesterday, I asked him to draw a clock. This is what he drew." Hannibal said as he opened his notebook and shows Dr. Sutcliffe Will’s Dali-Esque drawing of a clock, all the numbers to the right.

"Spatial neglect. Headaches, disorientation, hallucinations, altered consciousness. He’s got all the tell-tales." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"It’s so rare to be able to study the psychological effect of this type of malady on a person’s mind." Hannibal said.  
  
"More rare still to study the neurological effects." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"A doctor has to weigh the ultimate benefit of scientific study." Hannibal said then he added when he saw the other man's look. "Even in these times, we know so little about the brain. There are great discoveries to be made."

Dr. Sutcliff seriously considering that...

**MRI EXAM ROOM - DAY**

Will lies on the table, which moves slowly into the tube.

_'Will slides under Beth LeBeau’s bed, waiting for her.'_

Claustrophobic. The MRI begins to make a loud, disconcerting, knocking noise during the exam. The knocking gets louder, a disturbing, arrhythmic metronome.

Will’s eyes focus in the dark.

 _'Will stares at the water drops drip-drip-dripping into pools in the middle of the room. The knocking of the MRI now scores the distorted pulse of water drops. Beth LeBeau’s legs enter frame. Will Graham reaches out and Will's hand grabs Beth’s leg, yanking her to the floor. Her scream merging with the horrible noises of the MRI...'_  
  
Will tries to remain composed, but he can’t help but feel like he’s trapped inside a metal coffin.

 _'Will turns his head and stares at dead Beth LeBeau staring back at him with lifeless eyes.'_  
  
Dr. Sutcliffe and Hannibal study a monitor depicting the animated brain scan, as well as the standard “three-slice” scans on multiple control room screens.  
  
The entire right side of his brain is inflamed. It’s Anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis. Symptoms are going to get a lot worse." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"I know. It’s unfortunate for Will." Hannibal said.

Dr. Sutcliffe good-naturally asked, "Do you smell anything on me?

Hannibal considers for a moment, "Opportunity."

Dr. Sutcliffe shows Will his perfectly normal brain scans, "We didn’t find anything abnormal. No vascular malformations, no tumors. No swelling or bleeding. No evidence of stroke. Nothing wrong with you neurologically." Sutcliffe studies Will’s and Clarice's troubled faces. "Usually when I tell a patient that, they’re happy to hear it."  
  
"So... what I’m experiencing is psychological?" Will asked.  
  
"Brain scans can’t diagnose a mental disorder. They can only rule out medical illnesses, like a tumor, that can cause similar symptoms." Dr. Sutcliffe said. Will is definitely not happy. "We’ll do some more tests. Take some blood samples, but I imagine they’ll be just as inconclusive."

Clarice stared at Dr. Sutcliffe, something was telling her that he was keeping something from them but she didn't know what...

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Hannibal and Jack enjoy brandy by the fire. Winter can be seen falling through the open windows.  
  
"You knew, from the moment you walked into his classroom, that you were putting Will in a potentially destructive environment." Hannibal said.

"I had eight college girls dead in Minnesota. He caught their killer." Jack said.  
  
"He also caught their killer’s disease. He can’t stop thinking about what it is to take a life." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’d rather Will Graham go a little mad than some innocent lose their life. And I think Will Graham would rather that, too." Jack said.  
  
"Will’s an innocent." Hannibal said.   
  
"He’s an innocent I know is going to survive. Will is genuine. He’ll always come back to being Will." Jack said.  
  
"Not always. So far." Hannibal said. "He saw a neurologist today. They found nothing wrong with him. He was very upset by that."  
  
"He wanted something to be wrong?" Jack asked.  
  
"He wanted an answer that wasn’t mental illness." Hannibal replied.  
  
"Do you think Will is mentally ill?" Jack asked.

Hannibal considers his answer carefully, "The problem Will has is too many mirror neurons. Our heads are filled with them when we’re children. Supposed to help us socialize and melt away. But Will held onto his, which makes knowing who he is a challenge. He’s always reflecting those around him."

"It’s a mild form of echopraxia." Jack said. "You don't seem to be too worried about Clarice."  
  
"When you take him to a crime scene, Jack, the very air has screams smeared on it. In those places, he doesn’t just reflect, he absorbs." Hannibal said. "Oh, I am worried about her as well but she seems to be the stronger out of the two."

~~~~

Will and Clarice eased out of his car. They tread toward Beth LeBeau’s lonely house in the woods. Will and Clarice, trudging toward the house. He tears the crime scene tape from the door and enters.  
  
Will and Clarice entered, glanced around as Clarice went to explore the lower floor, noticed the bird cage is empty.  
  
Will walks slowly into the dark bedroom. He turns on the lamp on the night stand. Replaying the recollections in his head. The stain from the murder still coats the floor.  
  
"It’s 10:36 PM. I’m in Greenwood, Delaware. My name is Will Graham." Will whispered.

He edges toward the bed. He crouches to find a pair of eyes staring at him from beneath the bed. Will’s frozen. Dream or reality? When suddenly the bed overturns toward him. The lamp on the night stand is smashed. In the flash of the exploding bulb, a shape darts past Will, a dead young woman, her skin yellowed and filthy, the whites of her eyes filled with blood. It may as well be the walking corpse of Beth LeBeau haunting Will’s waking nightmare of murdering her.

But it’s not. Will grabs her by the elbow.  
  
With a sickening sound, a whole sheath of skin peels off her arm, leaving Will holding the macabre “glove.”

Before Will’s horror can quite take hold, instead of holding the glove of skin, it’s a flashlight. He’s no longer in the bedroom.  
  
Will focuses his eyes. Swivels around. Will, a sense of frightful dislocation, the wooded house in the deep, deep background. There’s no sign of the Dead Young Woman. Will looks at his watch and winces.

Will Graham has “lost time” again.

Loud enough to hear if the Dead Young Woman was near, "It’s 1:17 AM. We are in Greenwood, Delaware. My name is Will Graham." Then he adds. "And you are alive. If you can hear me. You are alive."

He sees Clarice step outside the house and look around, searching for him then she sees him and run towards him.

"Will?"

"It happened again..." Was all he told her.

Clarice looked at him before she nodded her head before she grabbed her phone and start to call someone.

Will, Clarice and Beverly stand over the disheveled room.  
  
"Why did Clarice call me? Why not Jack Crawford? Why not the police?" Beverly asked.  
  
"I called you because I’m not entirely sure what I saw was real." Will admitted.

"I thought it would be better if it was just you." Clarice added.

That admission of Will's almost breaks both women's hearts, but it doesn’t show.  
  
"Then let’s prove it." Beverly said instead.  
  
"I grabbed her arm and an entire layer of dead skin separated from the underlying tissue... like she was wearing a glove." Will said.  
  
"That’s why she doesn’t bleed." Beverly said.  
  
"No circulation. There’s nothing alive in the tissue to bind it." Will said.  
  
"What did you do with it." Beverly said.  
  
"I don’t know." Will admitted.  
  
"Could be a severe staphylococcal infection. That, or leprosy." Beverly said.  
  
"Her eyes were discolored. She was malnourished. Jaundiced. Liver’s shutting down. She was deranged." Will said.

"She mutilated a woman’s face because she thought it was a mask." Beverly said.  
  
"She can’t see faces." Will said. "If she did kill Beth LeBeau, she might not even know she did it."  
  
"Then why did she come back?" Beverly asked.  
  
"To convince herself she didn’t." Will answered.  
  
"Is that why you came back?" Beverly asked.  
  
"If I wasn’t clear on that issue, I know I didn’t kill Beth Lebeau. I just want to know who did." Will said.  
  
"Me, too." Beverly said. "You’re the subject of a lot of speculation at the bureau."  
  
"What are they speculating?" Will asked.  
  
"That Jack pushed you right up to the edge and now you’re pushing yourself over." Beverly answered.  
  
"This killer can’t accept her reality. I can occasionally identify with that. That being said, I feel relatively sane." Will said.

"And you have me to ground you." Clarice said as she looked at Will.

Will looked at her and said, "Yes, I do..."

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

A circle is drawn followed by random numbers (1-12), all stacked to the left, along with the clock hands.

"It’s 7-oh-5 PM. I’m in Baltimore, Maryland. My name is Will Graham." Will said.  
  
The clock Will has drawn, correctly numbered with hands corresponding to 7:05, until he gives it back to Hannibal...  
  
"Thank you for humoring me." Hannibal said.

...and it is Dali-Esque.  
  
"I feel like I’m seeing a ghost." Will said.  
  
"Regarding this killer or yourself?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Both." Will answered.  
  
"She’s real. You know she’s real. There is evidence. When you saw her, your sanity did not leave you." Hannibal said.  
  
"Time did." Will said.  
  
"You lost time again?" Hannibal asked he glances at the Dali-Esque clock, closes the notebook. "I spoke to Dr. Sutcliffe. We briefly discussed the particulars of your visit. Would you like to discuss them with me?"  
  
"There are no particulars. He didn’t find anything wrong." Will said.  
  
"Then we keep looking for answers." Hannibal said. "Perhaps you would permit me to run some tests of my own?"

"Thematic Apperception Tests? Minnesota Multiphasic?" Will asked.  
  
"Among others." Hannibal said.  
  
"You wouldn’t publish anything about me, would you, Dr. Lecter?" Will asked.  
  
"If there were ever anything that might be of therapeutic value to others, I’d abstract it in a form that’d be totally unrecognizable." Hannibal said.  
  
"Just do me a favor and publish it posthumously." Will said.  
  
"After your death or mine?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Which ever comes first." Will answered.

Hannibal lets that hang in the air, then he said, "Have you considered Cotard’s syndrome? It’s a rare delusional disorder in which a person believes he or she is dead."  
  
"Talking about the killer or me?" Will asked.  
  
"The killer, of course." Hannibal answered.  
  
"She couldn’t see the victim’s face. Or she was trying to uncover it." Will said.  
  
"The inability to identify others is associated with Cotard’s syndrome. It’s a misfiring in the areas of the brain which recognize faces, and also in the amygdala, which adds emotion to those recognitions." Hannibal said. "Even those  closest to her could seem like imposters."  
  
"She reached out for help, someone she loved, someone she trusted. She felt betrayed, became violent." Will said.  
  
"She can’t trust anything or anyone she once knew to be trustworthy. Her mental illness won’t let her." Hannibal said. "Have you ever felt that way, Will?"

Will identifies with the gravity of that, but deep down he knew that he had at least one person to trust: Clarice Starling.

~~~~~

Clarice is standing in front of the window, staring out of it watching the snow fall. When she had walked passed Hannibal, he noticed that she smelled differently she had on a different perfume. It smelled just as nice as her regular perfume.

She sighed heavily and said, "When I went upstairs to check on Will and found him gone, I was afraid that something terrible had happened to him so I started to panic as I looked at him." Clarice crossed her arms over her chest, causing the leather of her jacket to make a soft creaking sound.

"How did you feel when you found him outside?"

"Relieved but the worry was still there...I shouldn't have left him alone." Clarice said. "I am supposed to be there to ground him."

"You shouldn't blame yourself, Clarice." Hannibal said gently.

Clarice glanced at him over her shoulder as she said, "I can't help it even though we've known each other for such a short time, he and I bonded...we have a close relationship. Like an older brother with his younger sister." For some reason, she had felt the need to repeat how their relationship to Dr. Lecter. Clarice had started to feel something towards the doctor but she didn't know what and she was too scared to even look into that feeling, like if she did then she would have to admit what it was out-loud to herself.

"Whatever should happen to him will not be your fault, Clarice." 

"Whose fault would it be then?"

Hannibal looked at her and said, "You will know if it should happen, Clarice."

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - NIGHT**

Dogs, slumbering in a bunch. Will sleeps fitfully, sweating.

It’s dark. Shadows throw dim light over the property. The dead girl watching the house. Emaciated, hand ripped raw from her encounter with Will.  
  
Stirring in his sleep. The narrow slit of the curtains, barely open. An horrible eye could be seen through the barely opened curtain. Subconjunctival hemorrhage, cataracts, a leaking iris losing its shape. But still it watches from outside as Will sleeps.  
  
Nothing but the rustling trees and the chirp of crickets. And one other thing: A set of wet footprints on the porch.

**Clarice's House**

Clarice is sleeping, deeply her chest gently raised and fell with each breath. Salem is sleeping on her second pillow, next to her head. She unconsciously grips her sheets as she moved in her sleep. 

At the front door of her house, light is shinning from under the door but its broken by a shadow and then an envelope is slipped in from under the door. Then the shadow walks away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarice wears Be Delicious Night Ladies By DKNY, which has a very nice scent...I own one.


	31. Chapter 31

**Buffet Froid Part 3**

 

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - DAY**

"I was almost relieved when I got the phone call." Jocelyn Madchen said looking at her daughter, Georgia, before the disease.  
  
Jack and Will interview Jocelyn Madchen about her daughter, Clarice was standing behind Will as she watched the other woman.   
  
"I thought you found her and she was... would be at peace." She said and winced at that admission.  
  
"You thought she might be dead?" Will asked.  
  
"Makes me sound like a horrible mother. I tried to be a good mom. I tried to do everything for her. Just don’t want her to be in pain." Jocelyn answered.

Clarice thought she was both a horrible and good mother for wanting that but she wouldn't judge her for it.  
  
"No one is doubting your dedication to your daughter, Mrs. Madchen." Will said.  
  
"How well did she know Beth LeBeau?" Jack asked.  
  
"They were best friends. Went to school together before it was unsafe for Georgia to go to school. I don’t think they talked in years." Jocelyn answered.  
  
"When did you notice your daughter was struggling with mental illness." Jack said.

"When she was nine, she told me she was thinking about killing me and that she was already dead. Imagine staring into your little girl’s eyes and knowing something... awful is evolving behind them." Jocelyn said.  
  
"What sort of symptoms did she have?" Will asked.  
  
"Older she got, the worse they got. She had seizures, hallucinations, psychotic depression. I was grateful when she was catatonic." Jocelyn said.

Clarice frowned at that but didn't say anything.  
  
"Was she violent?" Jack asked.  
  
"Sometimes. We took precautions, made plans. Georgia’s little sister knew to lock herself in the car at the first sign of trouble." Jocelyn said.  
  
"What did her doctors say?" Will asked.  
  
"Not much." Joceyn answered. "She’d stay in the hospital for months at a time. A million dollars of blood tests and brain scans, all of them inconclusive." Will reacts to that, relating to her frustration. "I don’t have a million dollars. I’m being sued by the hospitals and insurance companies, none of them could ever tell me what was wrong."  
  
"You still don’t know?" Will asked her.

"They would say it was this or that, but they were always guessing." Jocelyn said. "I did my own research, wrote down every word all those doctors would say, all the different terminology. Learned a lot but mostly what I learned was how little is actually known about mental illness." There was a pause. "All they really know is it’s rarely about finding solutions. It’s mostly about managing expectations."

"That is certainly true." Clarice said softly, sadly as she glanced over at Will.

**B.A.U. - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY**

Jack sits behind his desk, lost in thought, pouring over the case file on Georgia Madchen. Will standing in the doorway with Clarice behind him.  
  
"Managing your expectations?" Will asked.  
  
"Changing my expectations." Jack answered. "After Miriam Lass died, I went to pack up my office. Then the idea of packing became so overwhelming I thought I should just leave. I got a trainee killed. It was a failure of leadership. I was responsible."  
  
"You didn’t kill Miriam Lass. The Chesapeake Ripper did." Will stated.  
  
"Doesn’t feel that way to me. I pulled her out of a classroom like I pulled you out of the classroom." Jack said. "And Clarice as well."  
  
"She was a student. I’m a teacher." Will responded.

"I wanted to help, Mr. Crawford, and so did she." Clarice said.  
  
"Neither of you are real F.B.I., which means I’m as responsible for you two as much as I was for her." Jack said.  
  
"I’ll take my own responsibility." Will said.

Clarice nodded in agreement.  
  
"Not from me, you won’t. We’re going to share that responsibility." Jack said. "I broke the rules for Miriam Lass. Encouraged her to break the rules. I’m breaking the rules with you."  
  
"Allowing an unstable agent to do field work?" Will asked.  
  
"Special Agent. Meaning you still represent the F.B.I. meaning you still represent me." Jack said.

Clarice is now silent as she watched the two men talk, her eyes moving between the two.  
  
"Have I misrepresented you, Jack?" Will asked.  
  
"No, but you’ve got me curious. Why are you still here when you and I both know this is bad for you." Jack said then added when he saw Will look. "You had an opportunity to quit. For some reason you didn’t take it."  
  
"Do you want me to quit?" Will asked.  
  
"I want you to know why I think you didn’t quit. You’re still here because what you do here has given you some sense of stability. That stability is good for you, Will." Jack said.  
  
"Stability requires a strong foundation, Jack. My moorings are built in the sand." Will stated.  
  
"I am not sand. I am bedrock. Even when you are doubting yourself, you don’t have to doubt me." Jack said.

Will realized he has an ally in Jack as well and not just Clarice who smiled at Jack...  
  
**HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT**

Classical music plays. Dr. Sutcliffe and Hannibal consider a centerpiece of succulent ham still on the bone. Before they had sat down, Hannibal had tried calling Clarice again but once again he got her voice mail which was out of character for the young woman because she always answered her phone. He was starting to get worried.  
  
"The Jamon Iberico." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"There is no equivalent." Jack said.  
  
"Still love your rare treats, don't you, Hannibal? The more difficult and expensive to obtain the better." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"It's a distinction that adds an expectation of quality." Hannibal said.  
  
"Not always." Dr. Sutcliffe said.

Hannibal cuts into the meat and said, "For Iberico, only a few pigs are selected each year. Once chosen, they roam the fields of Western Spain, enjoying a diet of local acorns and roots which give the ham its distinct flavor. But is the pig, once fattened and slaughtered and air cured, superior to any other pig, or is it simply a matter of reputation preceding product?"  
  
"Irrelevant. If the meat-eater believes it’s superior, belief determines value." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"A case of psychology overriding neurology." Hannibal said.  
  
"A case of reputation being king, but referrals being better." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"Indeed." Hannibal said.  
  
"We know how Iberico chooses his pigs. How did you choose yours?" Dr, Sutcliffe asked.  
  
"Are you referring to Will Graham?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"You’re fond of the rarefied. What makes him so rare?" Dr. Sutcliffe asked.  
  
"Will Graham has a remarkably vivid imagination. Beautiful. Pure empathy. Nothing he can’t understand and that terrifies him." Hannibal said.  
  
"So you set his mind on fire." Dr. Sutcliffe mused.  
  
"Imagination is an interesting accelerant for a fever." Hannibal said.  
  
"How far is this going to go? Put out the fire or let him burn?" Dr. Sutcliffe asked. "And what if his female companion finds out?"  
  
"Will’s my friend. We’ll put out the fire. When it’s necessary." Hannibal answered. "She won't, she'll be too focused on helping him get the treatment that he wanted."  
  
"He wants to have more tests." Dr. Sutcliffe said.  
  
"Now we’ve confirmed what it is. It’ll be easier to hide from him." Hannibal said with a sly smile.  
  
**MRI EXAM ROOM - NIGHT**

Now in a hospital gown, Will sits on the MRI's sliding tray and lies down. Dr. Sutcliffe hands him a set of ear-plugs. "Hang on. I’ll warm this thing up." Dr. Sutcliffe said. As Dr. Sutcliffe exits, Will pops in the ear plugs. Clarice had gone to get some coffee, telling him that she would be back before his test was finished.  
  
The tray containing Will Graham slides into the tunnel and comes to a stop.  
  
Waiting. Claustrophobic. The chimes sound. The knocking begins. It's bone-rattling loud. Even with the ear plugs.  
  
He blinks. And silence. Dead. Silence.  
  
Will is lying on the tray except now he's outside the MRI tunnel. He removes the ear plugs and sits up.  
  
The exam room is empty. He's alone. No one at the controls.

He inches off the tray and walks out the door.  
  
The hallway is empty. Will steps out of the change room, buttoning his shirt as he shuffles toward Sutcliffe’s Office. He slows to a stop once seeing an odd stain outside Sutcliffe’s door, which is partially ajar, an almost imperceptible speck of something that catches Will’s eye.

Then Will notices the burgundy smear on the door knob, as if someone pulled the door shut behind them and it didn’t latch.  
  
"Doctor Sutcliffe?" Will called out.

No answer. Will moves forward cautiously. Will slowly pushes the door open. A series of thin small footprints track back toward Sutcliffe’s chair, each one becoming more defined the closer they are.

Dr. Sutcliffe's eyes stare dead-lidded at Will. They are upside-down, looking over the back of his chair, flipped nose over eyes, pez-dispenser style. His jagged “Glascow Smile” has nearly beheaded him at the jaw.

The bloody scissors, the murder weapon, have been discarded on Sutcliffe’s desk in a small smear of red. The horrible silence rings in Will’s ears...

~~~~

Local police officers and FBI agents can be seen passing in the hall as Beverly runs a CSI ultra-violent wand over Will with a worried Clarice standing close by. Jack watches. Beverly reassures Will, and Jack by saying quietly, "You’re clean. You couldn’t have done this without getting something on you and there’s nothing on you."  
  
"I don’t feel clean." Will said.  
  
His face is split open at the jaw, sitting in his chair. Brian working over Sutcliffe. He pulls a long stringy hair from the bloodstain on Dr. Sutcliffe’s collar. The bloody scissors, still on his desk, just as Jimmy takes a picture of them, then carefully picks them up.  
  
"Murder weapon has the same diseased or damaged tissue on it that we found at Beth LeBeau’s house." Jimmy said.

"What connection does this guy have to the first victim?" Brian asked.  
  
"Just me." Will answered.  
  
"What do you remember?" Jack asked.  
  
"I remember coming here. Going into the MRI, getting out... and finding Dr. Sutcliffe’s body." Will answered.  
  
"No confusion?" Jack asked.  
  
"Not that I’m aware of." Will answered truthfully.  
  
Clarice was relieved to hear that but she doesn't say it out loud.

"This Dr. Sutcliffe, does he usually see patients after hours when he’s the only one in the office?" Jack asked.  
  
"He was very accommodating." Will answered.  
  
"Georgia Madchen followed you here? While you were ticking away in an MRI, she did this to your doctor?" Jack asked then he noticed Will’s look. "Why him?"  
  
"She can’t see faces. Maybe she thought he was me." Will answered.  
  
"Okay, while we’re at it, why you?" Jack asked.  
  
"I don’t know, Jack. I have a habit of collecting strays. I tried to tell her, that night I saw her, I tried to tell her she was alive. Maybe she heard me. Maybe that hadn’t occurred to her in a while." Will explained.  
  
_**Eyes moving behind closed lids. Over this, the sound of a low growl.  Will's eyelids flicker. He glances over to see the dogs are all staring under the bed, their growls growing ever so gradually.**_

 _ **Will leans over the side of the bed, pulling up the sheets, and looking under his mattress and box spring.** _  
  
_**A quick, startled glimpse. Face ghostly and white. Eyes filled with blood and cataracts, a living corpse.** _  
  
_**Nevertheless, he panics and tumbles off his mattress, scrambling away from the bed. The dogs bark aggressively. Will positions himself between dogs and bed and commands, "Tssst. Stop." The dogs stop barking in various stages until all quiet, only the low-pitched rumble of growls ready when they’re summoned. Will is strangely calm, cautious. He knows he’s not dreaming. He puts his face close to the ground to peer under the bed. In her grim visage he does not see not horror, but sadness. An ache. Georgia Madchen stares back, feral, silent. "I see you, Georgia." She scoots further into the shadows under the bed. "Think of who you are." The genuine need in Will’s statement calms Georgia. "It’s midnight. You’re in Wolf Trap, Virginia." He continue to talk, calming her. "Your name is Georgia Madchen. You are not alone. We’re here together."** _

_**A long moment of silence, then a distant, raspy whisper, "Am I alive...?" Georgia’s gnarled hand reaching out from under the bed...** _

~~~~~

Will approached a burn tank. Georgia’s visible through clear plastic, protected from the outside world. She is heavily sedated and her body has been coated with antiseptic gel. The dead woman is on life support, her eyes are open but for all intents and purposes, she is unconscious.

Will watched her...

"She'll recover." 

He looked over his shoulder at Clarice as she walked over to him and stands next to him, looking at Georgia.

"I hope so..."

 **Hannibal's Office**  
  
"Will she recover?" Jack asked.

Hannibal is behind his desk as Jack considers nearby.  
  
"Risk of infection is high. She’s lost most of her vital fluids. Even some bone mass. She’s being treated like a burn victim." Hannibal said.  
  
"Will she recover mentally?" Jack asked.  
  
"Almost all sufferers of this delusion recover with treatment. In extreme cases like this one, electroconvulsive treatment." Hannibal said. "I’m more concerned about Will."  
  
"Thought you’d be more concerned about your friend Dr. Sutcliffe." Jack stated.

Hannibal studies Jack’s intent before answering, "I’m grieving Dr. Sutcliffe. But Will’s very much alive. He’s still desperate for an explanation that can make everything right again."  
  
"I’m desperate for some explanations myself. I want to talk to this young woman when she recovers. How much of this will she remember?" Jack asked.  
  
"I sincerely hope for her sake, she doesn’t remember much." Hannibal said with a veiled threat...

~~~~~~~~  
  
Unconscious but conscious, Georgia stares into middle distance, lost in a fog of painkillers, her mind spins....  
  
_**Georgia eases her ghostly way through Dr. Sutcliffe’s door. From her vantage point, Georgia can only see a man’s back as he works on the recently-deceased Dr. Sutcliffe. The man is wearing a clear plastic suit over a traditional three-piece. Georgia is fascinated as the man works with a fierce grace, lacerating Dr. Sutcliffe’s face in the familiar “Glascow Smile” with the scissors. He stops, sniffs the air, olfactory senses detecting Georgia’s decaying body. As he turns...**_  
  
_**Georgia’s Cotard’s Syndrome masks Hannibal’s identity. His face has absolutely no features. Faceless and unrecognizable, Hannibal hands the scissors to Georgia.**_

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Rôti Part 1**

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - NIGHT**

The pack of dogs are gathered around the heat lamp in the fireplace. Will is sleeping fitfully in his bed, drenched with sweat. His fevered brow beads and runs. A glass of water is sweating as it distorts the flickering flame of a fireplace.

**HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT**

Hannibal entered carrying kudal, an Indian curry of sheep intestines, lovingly displayed in a sculpted banana leaf.  
  
"Dr. Gideon is a psychopath. Psychopaths are narcissists. They rarely doubt who they are." Hannibal said.  
  
"Tried to appeal to his narcissism." Dr. Chilton said.  
  
"By convincing him he was the Chesapeake Ripper." Hannibal said.

Dr. Chilton realizes he’s gotten himself into trouble, "If only I had been more curious about the common mind."

"I have no interest in understanding sheep. Only eating them." Hannibal said as he returned his attention to the platter. "Kudal. A South Indian curry. Made from sheep, of course. In a coconut-coriander-chili sauce."

Hannibal serves Dr. Chilton a morsel from the platter.  
  
"Feels like a last supper." Dr. Chilton said.  
  
"You’re not the only psychiatrist a patient has accused of making them kill. Poke around a psychopath’s mind, bound to get poked back." Hannibal said.  
  
"What would you do in my position?" Chilton asked.  
  
"Deny everything." Hannibal admitted.   
  
"I thought psychic driving would have been more effective in breaking down his personality." Dr. Chilton said.  
  
"Psychic driving fails because its methods are too obvious." Hannibal said.  
  
"Sensory deprivation. Psychic disorientation. Curare." Dr. Chilton said.

"You were trying too hard, Fredrick. If force is used, the subject will only surrender temporarily." Hannibal said.  
  
**HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT**

Hannibal and Dr. Chilton enjoy the beautifully prepared meal.

Once a patient is exposed to the method of the manipulation, it becomes much less effective." Hannibal said.

"When Dr. Gideon began to suspect he was being pushed..." Chilton said.

"...he pushed back. The subject mustn’t be aware of any influence. The only motivation one needs is loneliness or mild depression." Hannibal said.

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT**

Will opens his eyes. He’s alone in bed. The alarm clock is in slow motion. The numbers flicker as water begins to run out of the clock case, pouring out from the seams and from around the buttons. Water pools around him, too, running out of his pores. Water spills over the edge of his mattress. He loses his form completely in a splash.

Will wakes with a start. No black stag. No water. Although, he is entirely drenched in sweat.

**BSHCI - ENTRANCE - DAY**

Handcuffs click tight on wrists. Dr. Gideon, wearing a jumpsuit, ankle irons connected to a belt chain, which his wrist cuffs are attached to, escorted by two officers, Prisoner Transport and a male nurse.

Chilton waits beside a prison van with a PT driver. Doors open and Gideon is shuffled out by the PT officer and nurse. Gideon raises his head and takes a breath, rolls his head in the breeze. Chilton waits by the prison van. 

"You get to dress up and I don’t. This might affect how well my testimony goes over with the judge." Gideon said.

"Testimony will speak for itself." Chilton said.

The back of the van is a cubicle for prisoners along one wall, opposite a bench seat running along the other side.

"Fredrick, don’t look so worried. I forgive you your trespasses." Gideon said.

"What trespasses are those?" Chilton asked.

"For making me kill that nurse. I take full responsibility for murdering my wife and her family, but the nurse is all your fault." Gideon said.

"I can’t take responsibility for your actions, Dr. Gideon." Chilton replied.

"Sure can. It’s why I’m suing you. Had me thinking I was someone else, now I don’t know what to think." Gideon said.

"Dr. Gideon, you told me you were the Chesapeake Ripper." Chilton said.

"No, Dr. Chilton, you told me I was the Chesapeake Ripper. And that’s what I’m going to tell everyone." Gideon said.

"See you in court." Chilton said.

"I’ll keep an eye out for you." Gideon said.

The nurse watches as Gideon's chains are secured to a steel loop in the floor, taking up the slack so he is restrained. The officer swings the door closed.

Gideon looks at the PT officer opposite him, glancing at the male nurse, then back to the PT officer. Gideon cranes his neck to see the ring on the PT officer’s marriage finger. "How long have you been married?" Gideon asked. "That long?" When he wasn't answered. The PT officer doesn’t blink. "Regarding divorce, not that you’re getting one, but the odds are in its favor. Word of advice. It’s always easier to kill them. And anyone else sitting at the table. Thank god we didn’t have children. I would’ve never forgiven myself." Gideon shakes off that unfortunate thought, pressing on. "I’m sure your wife is fantastic. My wife was a horrible woman. She once made a poor fashion choice regarding her hair. To avoid embarrassment she wore a wig and told people she had cancer. And I’m the bad guy." Gideon considers that, then decides he’s not the bad guy. "Or maybe I’m just one of those people who shouldn’t be in a relationship. Not everyone should." He has a genuine moment of reflection, then changed subjects to PT officer. "Do you always sit in the back? Or do you gentlemen take turns?" He then adds off the officer's silence. :Well, however it is you came to be sitting with me today, it was nice to spend this time together." He grins.

The prison van as it drives along the road. Suddenly blood splats against the inside of the rear window of the prison van. The prison van starts to brake.

**PRISON TRANSPORT VAN CRIME SCENE**

Reflective light flashes across Will and Clarice, bleached by the daylight. All sound is dulled and the ambient noise of Will’s body provides an organic hum. Local cops and FBI secure the scene. An ambulance and paramedic standby.

Behind them is the prison transport van, it’s doors open, spattered with blood and debris. Will and Clarice closed their eyes, it's Clarice's turn to sink into the mind of Gideon. _A pendulum It swings in the darkness of Clarice’s mind, keeping rhythm with her heart beat. Her eyes are closed. The pendulum is now outside her head. It swung behind Clarice, wiping away in its wake the local cops and FBI agents. The pendulum swung again and the ambulance and paramedic are gone. She opened her eyes and walked backwards toward the Prison Van. Backing into the Prisoner Holding area and sitting down. The doors close behind her._

_Clarice sat where Gideon was sitting. The pendulum swings across the blood-stained walls and doors, lifting the blood. The pendulum swung and the pool of blood on the floor has vanished. Clarice glanced at the bench next to her to see a small torn piece of flesh and a smear of blood. Gone. She glanced up to see the PT officer sitting opposite her and the nurse sitting on the adjacent bench._

_"All I need is to get one hand free." Will's voice broke through her trance._

_They watch Clarice, who glanced at the bench next to her where the small torn piece of flesh and smear of blood once were. Slamming her hand into the bench, Clarice dislocated her own thumb and quickly slide her hand free of the cuff. The PT officer saw this and moved to stop her as Clarice quickly popped her thumb back into place. The PT Officer landed a blow to Clarice’s head before Clarice pulled him to the bench in a choke hold._

_The nurse attempted to intercede and a vicious battle ensues. But Clarice kicked the Nurse back, pinned the PT officer to the roof of the van with her leg shackles, choking the man out. The man fell to the floor dead allowing Clarice to flip the Nurse onto the floor of the van. She took the free handcuff and drove it deep into the Nurse’s neck. Clarice then pulled on it and the man’s throat is ripped out in a gush of blood that sprayed the inside of the back door windows. The vehicle lurched to a stop and suddenly, the back door open, blinding Clarice momentarily, then... Clarice sprung._

Will stepped out of the back of the Prison Transport Van where Jack is waiting for him and his protege.

"Does Abel Gideon still believe he’s the Chesapeake Ripper?" Jack asked.

"Abel Gideon’s having a difference of opinion regarding who he is." Clarice answered as she stepped down after Will.

"This is either Kabuki or some dissociative identity disorder." Jack said.

Will glanced back at the bloody Prison Transport Van, "Whoever did that, was not in the same state of mind who did this."

Will and Jack are staring at a human heart topped with a sprinkling of snow, it glistens in the sunlight as it slowly spins. It is hanging from the branch of a tree. Tied in place with a length of artery. But the heart is not the only organ suspended from the tree’s branches on varying lengths of human vein. Its branches are full of livers, kidneys, lungs, spleens, etc.

The bloodless corpses of the PT Driver, PT Officer and Nurse ring the base of the tree, propped up in sitting positions. Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian work the crime scene as Jack, Clarice and Will approach. Local cops and FBI are around them.

"He took a uniform, police radio, two nine millimeter handguns, pepper spray, taser and handcuffs." Beverly said.

Brian Zeller studies an incision in the Nurse’s throat where the carotid artery was crudely removed.

"It’s what he didn’t take." Will said.

"Hung the organs from the branches with vein from the victims." Beverly said.

"Long ones are saphenous veins and those there look like popliteal." Brian said.

"He even tied little bows with them." Jimmy said.

"That's...disgusting?" Clarice said as she eyed the bows.

"Pretty impressive for an arterectomy performed with the contents of a first aid kit." Brian said as he held up a dipstick. "And a dipstick." He then bags the dipstick as evidence.

"The Chesapeake Ripper wouldn’t have left the organs behind." Clarice said looking at Will who nodded in agreement.

"If Gideon isn’t the Chesapeake Ripper, he’s certainly trying to get his attention." Jack said.

Jimmy leans in, takes a photograph...

"Local PD’s picked up a foot trail leading out of the woods. Boot soles were consistent with what we found at the crime scene." Beverly said.

"How fresh were the tracks?" Jack asked.

"Two, three hours old." Beverly answered.

"Which direction were they headed?" Jack asked.

"Back to Baltimore." Beverly answered.

Jack’s concerned expression, Clarice's eyes widen in horror and concern.

**BSHCI - CHILTON’S OFFICE - DAY**

Dr. Chilton sat glibly behind his moat of a desk, "I suppose this is my fault, too." 

Will and Alana stand before Chilton, Clarice is standing behind them silent wit her arms crossed over her chest.

"You did dodge a bullet. Gideon’s escape foregoes a trial. And a very public humiliation for you." Will said.

"Now you’re hosting a private one. Next you’ll be accusing me of arranging his escape." Chilton said.

"Nobody’s making that accusation." Alana said.

"If we’re assigning blame, Dr. Bloom, you’re due your fair share. You planted the suggestion I was unethically manipulating Gideon." Chilton said.

"According to Gideon, you were." Alana said.

"After you told him I was. You thought I was manipulating him? He was manipulating you. All this litigious lather you’ve worked up gave him the opportunity to escape." Chilton said.

"You were pushing him." Alana stated.

"He gave me informed consent to treat him. Said he was grateful for my help understanding who he is." Chilton said.

"What did you help him understand?" Will asked.

"He wasn’t insane when he killed his wife. Killing her drove him insane. He disassociated from the previous murders he committed. I didn’t convince him he’s a serial killer. I just reminded him of the fact." Chilton said.

"Gideon is not the Chesapeake Ripper although he may have thought he was while under your care, Doctor." Clarice said from her spot behind Will and Alana, drawing Chilton's attention to her.

"Whether he is or he isn’t doesn’t matter right now. If he thinks he is or even if he’s confused on that issue, he will kill again." Alana said drawing his attention back to her.

Dr. Chilton rocked back in his chair, "I hope he doesn’t for your sake. Can’t imagine how you’d sleep with that on your shoulders."

"How did you sleep after Gideon killed your nurse?" Alana asked.

"They thought he was unconscious. The attendant left the nurse alone for three minutes. And in those three minutes Dr. Gideon did horrible things. I am less responsible for that nurse’s death than the attendant’s small bladder." Chilton said.

Will tried to focus the conversation away from blame and asked, "What does Gideon want?"

"Last thing Abel Gideon said to me was he intended to tell everyone he’s the Chesapeake Ripper." Chilton said.

"He just wasn’t intending to do it in court." Will said.

Will considering the extent of what that means...

**B.A.U. - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY**

The room has been transformed into a command center for the Gideon Manhunt. Area maps and info about Dr. Gideon have been pinned to the walls for reference. Multiple photographs of Gideon are on display for reference. Rows and rows and rows of FBI agent listen intently to Jack’s brief, "Transplant Surgeon. Convicted first degree in the murders of his wife and her family. Institutionalized at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where he murdered a nurse and claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper."

A man apart, Will leaned against the wall at the back of the room, observing the other agents as they listen to Jack. Clarice is standing next to him. "Dr. Gideon escaped this morning after killing two police transport officers and a hospital attendant. He is armed and dangerous." Will winces at the buzzing overhead lights, a bead of sweat makes its way out of his hairline down his cheek. Jack's voice begins to vibrate at the same frequency of the buzz. "He’s believed to be at large in the greater Baltimore area." Will, all sound dropped out. The ambient noise of Will’s circulatory system provides an organic hum, his heart beating fast and faint. Will wipes the sweat from his brow, glancing up.

The room is filled with antlers. They are mounted to every surface of the walls, branching out from the chairs where Agents once sat but are no longer there.

Will is hallucinating.

Jack’s the only other man in the room. Jack speaks M.O.S., the twisting antlers pushing like thorny branches, wrapping around Will’s point of view. Jack looks at Will, his voice cutting through the bramble, "He will kill again." Will is snapped from his schism by a sharp word from Jack. The briefing has ended and the various FBI agents are moving into action. Jack standing on the other side of the room, conferring with FBI agents. He glances at Will. Will resets to normal, his mind resuming synch with the room. He nods to Jack, who registers Will’s odd state with unease.

Clarice silently slipped her hand into Will's, squeezing it quietly.

**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

"What did you see?" Hannibal asked.

Hannibal and Will sit across from each other. Clarice is in the waiting room. waiting for her turn.

"A thicket of antlers. All I heard was my heart dim but fast, like footsteps fleeing into silence." Will answered.

"Have you noticed if these hallucinations occur at a particular time of day?" Hannibal asked.

"Usually later in the day, at night." Will answered.

"Are you more sensitive to light than you used to be?" Hannibal asked.

"Maybe. Yeah." Will replied.

Hannibal internally debates how to broach the next subject, "Have you heard the term “Sundowning?”."

"Sundowning?" Will repeated.

"It’s a state of confusion experienced at the end of the day. When there are more shadows. It commonly occurs in the elderly." Hannibal answered.

"Is it a symptom of dementia?" Will asked.

"It can be." Hannibal said.

Will stares at Hannibal, then averts his eyes. It’s a truly terrifying suggestion to consider. A silent moment, then, "People with dementia have all sorts of sleep disorders and disruptions."

"They can experience episodes of hallucinations, sleep walking." Hannibal said.

"Memory loss." Will said.

"Yes. Also, personality changes." Hannibal said.

"Has my personality changed?" Will asked.

"Do you think it’s changed?" Hannibal asked.

"I don’t know how to gauge who I am anymore. I don’t feel like myself. I feel like I’ve been gradually becoming different for a while." Will said. "Now I just feel like somebody else."

"What do you feel like?" Hannibal asked.

"I feel... crazy." Will answered.

"And that is what you fear most." Hannibal said.

"I fear not knowing who I am." Will said. "It’s what Abel Gideon’s afraid of, isn’t it. He’s like a blind man. Somebody got inside his head and moved all the furniture around."

"I imagine Abel Gideon would want to find the Chesapeake Ripper to gauge who he is. And who he isn’t." Hannibal said. "Will, you have me as your gauge."

Will is dimly comforted...

~~~~~

Hannibal was sitting in his chair, watching her pace. 

"Clarice, sit down before you make my carpet threadbare."

His voice seemed to startle her, she gasped and jumped turning to look at him.

"Did you forget that you were having a session with me?" Hannibal asked her.

Clarice's facial features turned sheepish and embarrassed, "I am so sorry about my behavior...gah, if my pa could see me now he'll kill me." Hannibal made a note that her southern accent was stronger now.

He watched her sit down and saw that she kept looking at his windows.

"What's wrong, Clarice?"

"I'm worried about Will, Doctor Lecter." Clarice said. "After finding out what's wrong with him, I am afraid that I'll lose him...and I know he's afraid that I'll end up like him."

"You won't end up like him nor will you let him get lost."

"How do you know?" 

"Because you are strong and stubborn, you won't lose yourself nor will you let Will lose himself."

Clarice stared at him silently for a few minutes before she smiled at him, gratefully and included her head to hid the faint blush that appeared on her cheeks at his compliment.

Hannibal smiled at her, pleased that he could get such a response from her.

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Rôti Part 2**

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY**

Jack is with Will and Clarice. Zeller, Price and Katz are present with the bodies of the PT officer and male nurse on trays that have been slid out of open morgue drawers. 

"Gideon didn’t leave a manifesto. We confiscated all correspondences he got from outside admirers. We’re going through everything now." Beverly said.  
  
"Any secret communiques or coded messages written in bodily fluids or anything else, we’ll find them." Jimmy said.  
  
"You won’t find anything. Whatever Gideon’s up to is all in his head." Will said.

Will noticed a trickle of water streaming out of the seam from a close morgue drawer.

Brian sorts through organs in sterile bags, wrapped in narrow cords, until he finds two containers of gray matter, "Not much left in these heads. All the organ removals were postmortem. Including transorbital lobotomies."

Jimmy removed the Dipstick from an evidence bag, "Dipstick lobotomy."  
  
Will watched as the trickle of water from the morgue drawer forms a puddle that’s pooling around his feet.  
  
"It wasn’t technically a lobotomy. Didn’t remove any of the brain, just scrambled them." Beverly said.

"Went in through the top of the eye socket and whisked it around." Brian said.

Will realizes that no one else has noticed the pool of water. He glances back and it’s no longer there.  
  
"Why remove every other organ in their bodies completely in tact and then scramble their brains?" Jack asked.

Will tries to shake off his hallucination, adding, "That’s what they did to him."  
  
"That’s what who did to him?" Jack asked.  
  
"Dr. Chilton and every psychiatrist and Ph.D. Candidate who attempted any kind of therapy. Poked and prodded. Gave him tests. Told him who he was, who he wasn’t." Will said.  
  
"I want a list of every doctor, every therapist, anybody in any kind of psychiatric field who ever had a conversation with Gideon." Jack ordered.  
  
"Alana Bloom will be on that list." Clarice said breaking her silence.

Will is concern...

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL - DAY**

Will swims upstream through the crowd of exiting FBI trainees leaving the lecture hall. Alana stands behind the desk looking through her papers as he gathers them up.  
  
"Are you my protective custody?" Alana asked when he was close enough.  
  
"You heard?" Will asked instead.  
  
"I heard I get an armed escort until Gideon is apprehended." Alana said.  
  
"You’ll have a real FBI Agent, not a teacher with a temporary badge." Will said.  
  
"Too bad. Would have been fun cozying up with your dogs in front of the space heater." Alana said.

It’s a flirtation, but a mild one.  
  
"Don’t need protective custody to cozy up with my dogs. Or me for that matter. Just a little more stability on my part." Will said.

She smiles, touches his cheek and reacts, "You’re really warm."  
  
"I tend to run hot. They say stress raises body temperature." Will said.  
  
"You should take some aspirin." Alana said.

Will shakes the bottle of aspirin in his pocket, "Way ahead of you." Clarice had given him the bottle on her way to her next class before she rushed away from him.

"They’re going to kill Gideon, aren’t they?" Alana asked.  
  
"Whatever happens to him, has nothing to do with you." Will said.  
  
"Gideon’s not completely responsible for his actions if he was subjected to an outside influence." Alana said.  
  
"Like Dr. Chilton telling him he’s the Chesapeake Ripper?" Will asked.  
  
"Like me telling him he’s not in a state of mind to know who he is." Alana said she can’t help but hold herself slightly accountable. "What do you think will happen if he finds the Ripper?"  
  
"The Chesapeake Ripper will kill him. He took credit for his work. Ripper would consider that rude." Will stated.

**FREDDIE LOUNDS’ CAR - DAY**

Freddie winces through the falling snow at the traffic ahead. The telephone rings and she hits the speaker, "Freddie Lounds..."  
  
"Miss Lounds, my name is Paul Carruthers, I‘m a psychiatrist. I read your article on Abel Gideon." A male's voice said from the other end of the phone.

Freddie's eyes light up with recognition, "And I yours, Dr. Carruthers."

"So you're aware of my work?" The voice asked.  
  
"I found your paper on narcissistic personality disorder insightful. Especially as it pertained to your opinions of Abel Gideon." Freddie said.  
  
"Thank you. That's very kind." He said.  
  
"You calling about his escape." Freddie said.

The male voice said, "Oh, yes. I'd like to collaborate on an article for the Journal of Abnormal Psychology."  
  
"You want a writing partner?" Freddie asked.  
  
"I have further details regarding Abel Gideon that I have yet to speak of with anyone. I'd be willing to share them with your readers in exchange for any insight you gathered from your interview." He said.  
  
"Shared byline?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Of course. Could we meet?"

Freddie Lounds is energized after she agrees and hangs up.

**DR. CARRUTHERS’ OFFICE - WAITING AREA - NIGHT**

Empty waiting area. Freddie stepped in from a corridor to find she's all alone.  
  
"Hello? Dr. Carruthers?" Freddie called out.

She glanced down an hall and looks for the proper door.

Dr. Gideon standing behind a seated Dr. Paul Carruthers. Dr. Gideon works patiently making adjustments to Dr. Carruther's neck tie. 

Dr. Gideon then called, "Ms Lounds, please let yourself in!

Across the room, the door opens and as she enters, her face falls in utter shock and horror. Bound to a chair, Paul Carruthers is bleeding out. A cannula is lodged in the sides of his neck, having slowly drained his blood. He’s flanked by two IV stands ton each side, each one holding a liter of blood. His throat has been slashed and his tongue has been pulled through the open wound to create a Columbian Neck Tie.

As Carruthers's tongue twists and trembles, Dr. Gideon does his best to straighten it like a proper neck tie. Once the tongue is flattened, he turns to reveal he has a handgun which he points at Freddie.  
  
"I read in your Tattler archives that the Chesapeake Ripper once removed a man's tongue and used it as a bookmark in his Bible." Gideon said then he gestured to Carruthers. "What do you think? Would the Ripper approve?"

Freddie as her fear melting away as her professional curiosity takes over.

**DR. CARRUTHERS’ OFFICE - NIGHT**

Paul Carruthers is dead, tongue hanging out of the hole in his throat, lying across his collar and tucked into his waist coat and fastened with a decorative tie pen. Although the stands are still present, the IV bags of blood that once hung on them are now inside an ice-chest cooler on the desk.

Jack, Clarice and Will are studying the body.  
  
"Dr. Paul Carruthers wrote an article for the Journal of Criminal Psychology describing Gideon as a pathological narcissist who suffers from psychotic episodes." Jack said.  
  
"Let’s hope he got some satisfaction from being proved right." Will said.

"Because he's not satisfied about being dead, I can say that much." Clarice said as she takes the body in and winces.  
  
"This isn’t just about getting the Chesapeake Ripper’s attention." Jack said.  
  
"Gideon’s mind has been dissected by psychiatrists, and as a surgeon, he’s applying his own skill set." Will said as he takes a closer look at the dead man’s tongue. "Gideon gave him something better to do with his tongue than wag it."

Jack eyed Will.  
  
"That’s not what killed him." Brian said looked at the cannulae inserted into Paul Carruthers’ arteries. "Arterial cannulae. Drained him until his heart stopped."

"Got a little on his collar." Beverly stated.

Jimmy Price examines the bags of blood, "There’s four-and-a-half liters of blood in here. Packed in ice." Jimmy pulls a note out from under the cooler and reads, "Please deliver to the Red Cross."  
  
"That’s considerate." Beverly said.

"Yeah, very sweet...give the blood of a murder victim to some innocent people." Clarice quipped. "Sick, sick man..."  
  
"He’s peacocking for the Ripper." Jack said.  
  
"This is like flowers and chocolate before a first date." Will said as he noticed Paul Carruthers’ hand is on the computer mouse, forefinger poised to click (if it had any life in it).  
  
Will and Clarice shared a look before she taps the control key and the monitor illuminates. The tattlecrim.com website home page is already on the screen. The headline reads: “CHESAPEAKE RIPPER ESCAPES.” It’s splashed across a picture of the two trees hanging with organs. The cursor is directly over the refresh circle arrow. Clarice pushes Paul Carruthers’ dead finger hover over the mouse and clicks the refresh. The latest home pages loads. The headline story reads: “CHESAPEAKE RIPPER RIPS AGAIN.”  
  
"How is this already news?" Jack asked.

Beneath, the exclusive headline is a picture of Paul Carruthers, tongue-tied, blood bags still hanging.  
  
"Somebody from Baltimore PD must’ve taken a picture with their phone and sold it to Tattlecrime." Brian said.  
  
"Took the picture before the blood was on ice. Gideon was still here." Jack said.  
  
"He has Freddie Lounds." Will said.

"Damn it..." Clarice muttered.

 **OBSERVATORY - NIGHT**  

Freddie sits at a vintage school desk, her face is illuminated by her laptop screen as she types.  
  
"About this time you may be counting exits or at least considering them. There are three. All buttoned up." Gideon said.  
  
"Hence no restraints." Freddie said.  
  
"No need to be uncomfortable. I’m quick. I have a gun and it has bullets even quicker than I am. If you try to escape, Miss Lounds, then I promise you will be found in pieces. Do we have an agreement?" Gideon asked.  
  
"Yes." Freddie answered.  
  
"Good. Now, this relationship you and I have can benefit both of us." Gideon said.  
  
"I can do a big story on you. Anything you want to say." Freddie said.  
  
"Although I did enjoy the article you wrote about that poor nurse I killed, it didn’t seem genuine." Gideon said.  
  
"Jack Crawford told me to write it." Freddie admitted.   
  
"He did." Gideon said.  
  
"To flush out the Chesapeake Ripper." Freddie said.  
  
"And flushed out he was. He waved the severed arm of Jack Crawford’s dead trainee around like a flag. Right here in this room." Gideon said.  
  
"Aren’t you the Chesapeake Ripper?" Freddie asked.  
  
"I admit I’m confused on that one but please don’t patronize me." Gideon said.  
  
"I’m sorry." Freddie said.  
  
"It’s like remembering something from your childhood and wondering if it really happened to you or if it happened to someone else. And then sadly realizing it was just some picture you saw in a book." Gideon said.  
  
"Do you remember your other murders?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Vividly. I never intended to murder my wife. It just struck me as a good idea at the time. Her mother wouldn’t stop screaming while I was doing it so I had to kill her. And by the time I got to her brother and her father, well, those murders were self-defense." Gideon said.  
  
"You’re waiting for the Chesapeake Ripper to come back here." Freddie said.  
  
"Let’s hope he gets the invitation. There’s one thing we know about your writing, he’s an avid reader." Gideon said.

**Hannibal's House Night**

Hannibal walked in carrying two plates of elegantly towards the table where Clarice sat waiting.

"Échine Rôti Prune-Orange." Hannibal said as he placed the first plate down in front of her. "Roast Pork that was slowly cooked in a sauce of plums, orange, sherry and garden herbs." 

"It smells wonderful, Dr. Lecter." Clarice said as she placed her napkin on her lap, over her floral pencil skirt so that it didn't get stained. 

Hannibal placed the second plate down and smiled at her, "Thank you, Clarice." He sits down as well and they start eating. "You have wonderful table manners, Clarice, I had noticed it before but never gotten a chance to praise it."

Clarice looked at him before she chewed and swallowed her food, wiping her mouth with her napkin, "Thank you...my dad had started to teach me when I was young but my adopted mother finished and expanded on it when she took me in." She smiled at him. "I don't really remember how I used to eat before her teaching but I am grateful for it because it helps hide my Southern roots."

"Your accent can't hide those roots." Hannibal said. 

"No, it can't." Clarice agreed before she finally reached for her wine glass.

She took a sip of her wine and swished the wine briefly before swallowing, "Mmm, this is good wine..."

"What do you taste?" Hannibal asked curious.

Her expression turned thoughtful, "I taste oak. Floral." She looked at him to see if she was correct.

"I love your pallet." Hannibal said with a nod and smile.

Clarice laughed at that and said, "Men said they loved a lot of things about me but never once had any of them said that they loved my pallet."

"Not many men are like me, Clarice."

"There's no man like you, Dr. Lecter." Clarice corrected with a gentle smile.

"Do you like Tiramisu cake?" Hannibal asked. "Oh, you don't like sweets...I apologize."

"I like sweets." Clarice said.

"Then why did you say that you didn't that night where you and Will came over?"

Clarice smiled at him and said, "Because he needed it more than I did."

"Excellent because I think you'd like it."

"Well, I love how you cooked your roast so I am sure I will love your cake." Clarice said with a smile.

\--------

"That was really good Tiramisu cake, Doctor." Clarice said as she wiped her mouth. "We really need to start making this into a habit from now on."

Hannibal smiled as he collected the dishes, "Of course. I would like that very much."

Clarice smiled at him, it was clear that she would like that as well.

 

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY**

Paul Carruthers’ grotesque, Bloodless body lies on a gurney. An identically injured corpse nearby. Jack, Will, Clarice, Alana and Brian are gathered around dead Carson Nahn, thirties, throat cleanly sliced, tongue pulled through, resting on his upper chest.

"Dr. Carson Nahn. He’s the Psychiatric Attending at Western General. Interviewed Gideon for the same psychopathy survey I participated in two years ago." Alana said.  
  
"Total frenectomy. All of the webbing under the tongue, even the connective tissue into the throat has been cut free and pulled through for the... desired effect." Brian said.  
  
Jack looked at Alana and asked, "Still no word from Dr. Chilton?"  
  
"He hasn’t answered his phone since yesterday and didn’t show up to work this morning." Alana said and glanced at Will, both assuming the worst.  
  
"Gideon wants to lure the Ripper. He’s going to offer up the man who disrespected both their identities." Will said.  
  
"Every detail of Paul Carruthers’ murder meticulously described in Freddie Lounds’ article has been faithfully re-created except one..." Jack said as he pulls back the sheet covering Carson Nahn’s shoulders revealing one of his arms has been recently amputated.  
  
"What’s different about Carson? Why amputate his arm?" Alana asked.

Jack looked at Zeller and asked, "Freddie write anything about this?"

"Not that I’m aware of." Brian answered.  
  
"Abel Gideon didn’t kill this man. The Chesapeake Ripper did." Clarice said staring at the body next to Will.  
  
"The Chesapeake Ripper is copying his own copy cat?" Jack asked.  
  
"You said the Chesapeake Ripper would want to kill Gideon for taking credit for his work." Alana said  
  
"Gideon’s not alone anymore. The Ripper won’t risk exposure. So he’s telling us how to catch him." Will said as he looked to Jack. "Actually, he’s telling you." He paused. "Where was the last place you saw a severed arm, Jack?"

**OBSERVATORY - NIGHT**

Dr. Chilton's eyes slowly open, trying to focus. They look about slow, thick, as if tears were molasses. Gideon steps into view and Chilton is revealed to be strapped to a surgical gurney. His torso is angled upwards, an IV tap running into a vein on the back of his hand. He looks down to see he is covered by surgical drapes.

"Did us both a favor and sedated you. You’ll be a little fuzzy around the edges but fully aware." Gideon said as he glances over his prepped tray of scalpels. "I’ve found surgeries are better done with the patient conscious under local or epidural. Reminds me there’s a person there trusting me with their life. Not just a piece of meat being manipulated. However, in this instance, I mostly want to see the look on your face."  
  
"Please... you’re not the Chesapeake Ripper, you don’t have to do this." Chilton begged.  
  
"No, I’m not. And yes, I do. You got inside my head, Fredrick. Now I’m getting inside you." Gideon said. Chilton’s head turns and he sees Freddie Lounds holding a pump ventilator. "You’ve met Freddie Lounds. She’ll be assisting me today. More you. I’ll have her manually pumping the ventilator to keep you breathing." A terrified Freddie glances at Chilton, then averts her eyes. "Before we begin, I have to ask: while you were fumbling with my mind, did you ever think the real Chesapeake Ripper would kill again?"  
  
"He’d be dismissed as a copy cat." Chilton said.  
  
"I hope he considers what I’m about to do to you an apology for any part I played in that insult." Gideon said.  
  
"Ohmygod." Chilton breathed out. Gideon makes a long incision along Dr. Chilton’s abdomen, who is horrified to see his skin part and his blood seep. "What are you doing?"  
  
"The Chesapeake Ripper collects Surgical trophies." Gideon answered. "In the event we never meet, I thought I’d leave him a gift. Or rather a gift basket." Gideon works, slowly removing an organ that steams ever-so-slightly in the cold room. "It’s amazing how many organs the body can offer up before it really starts to suffer." Dr. Chilton’s eyes begin to role into the back of his head. Gideon gently slaps him repeatedly with the back of his hand, bringing Dr. Chilton’s eyes back into focus. "Now it’s very important that you stay awake because I’m going to ask you to hold a few things."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And heeey, I finally wrote the dinner scene with Clarice and Hannibal! Her outfit, nothing too fancy https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/ec/9e/48/ec9e483f78025b97b6f894eb7103927d.jpg
> 
> Next is the opera one! :D


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what I just realized? That after this part, I have two episodes left to convert into a three part then it'll be to season 2 aka the second part of this series!

**Rôti Part 3**

**F.B.I. S.U.V. - NIGHT 4**

Will sits in the backseat with Jack. Clarice is following after them in her car. F.B.I. agents up front. Jack studies Will as he glances out the window at the street lights intermittently flashing past.  
  
"I want you to wait outside." Jack said.  
  
"I think that’s probably best." Will agreed.  
  
"You look like hell, Will." Jack said.  
  
"I feel like hell. Actually, I feel fluid. Like I’m... spilling. I must be coming down with something." Will said. "Hope it’s not contagious."  
  
"This. What we do. Can weaken your immune system. If you allow it." Jack said.  
  
"If I allow it?" Will repeated.  
  
"Keep this all in perspective. Keep yourself in perspective." Jack said.  
  
"Myself is in a haze at the moment." Will said.  
  
"You seem over-whelmed. You’ve got to take care of yourself, Will." Jack said.  
  
"Build up my resistance?" Will asked.  
  
"Just don’t let yourself go. As much as you can, let the rest of it go. You take too much of this with you." Jack said.  
  
"It’s hard to shake off what’s already under your skin." Will said.

**OBSERVATORY - NIGHT**

The F.B.I. S.U.V. approached the observatory.  
  
Will eyes are closed. He listens to a pounding rain outside his head. He slowly opens his eyes and Will sits with Jack and three other FBI agents. Sheets of water pour over the windows indicating a heavy rain outside. The sound drowns out all other sound.

Jack, Clarice and the other FBI agents exit the vehicle, quietly shutting doors as they move across the field.  
  
Pouring rain outside. Will watches the distorted images of Jack and the FBI agents stealthily moving off. He finally unbuckles his seat belt and gets out.

Will steps out of the vehicle and there is no evidence of the heavy rain fall he witnessed when he was inside. The loud sound of rain is abruptly absent. There are two other F.B.I. S.U.V.s parked on the road, FBI agents moving toward the Observatory from each of them, following Jack Crawford and the others.  
  
He casts a foggy look to the nearby tree-line. Something’s moving in the forest. It’s the black stag. He moves, drawn toward the treeline, heading away from the FBI team slowly and stealthily approach the Observatory.

Jack stands by the door to the Observatory. He hears a low moan. The big telescope doors are opening. He looks at an FBI SWAT officer. Jack nods. The SWAT officer pulls the door open Jack runs into the space and sees moonlight streaming through the telescope doors revealing: Dr. Chilton with a drip in his arm. He is reclining in the gurney. He  
holds his own insides in his lap, a grotesque basket of organs, like hellish fruit.

Freddie works furiously, rhythmically pumping air, "He’s still alive."  
  
Jack looked to a SWAT officer and ordered, "Get medical in here! Now!"  
  
From a distant vantage point, Gideon amongst trees, watching the FBI flood the Observatory. He sighs, disappointed. Jack Crawford and Clarice Starling exited the observatory and confers with FBI agents. He watches for a moment, then recedes into the darkness.  
  
Will stumbles out of the trees and stops short. The black stag stands at the side of the road, motionless, staring back. They watch each other for a still moment. Will slowly un-holsters his gun. He raises his weapon at the Stag, his finger tensing on the trigger.  
  
Gideon slides behind the wheel, glancing up in the rear-view mirror to see Will Graham sitting in his back seat. He’s in a flop sweat, the gun still in his hand pointing at Gideon’s back through the backrest of the front seat.  
  
"I was expecting the Chesapeake Ripper. Or are you him?" Gideon asked he glanced over his shoulder at Will’s drawn gun.  
  
Gideon is now Garret Jacob Hobbs, his eyes cloudy and dead.  
  
"Turn around. Don’t look at me." Will said.

Will looks grey, sweating, swaying. The gun unsteady. Gideon looks at Will’s state.  
  
"You’re a little peaky, Mr. Graham, if I’m allowed to say so. I may be crazy, but I believe you’re sick." Gideon observed.  
  
Garret Jacob Hobbs stares at him from the rear-view mirror.  
  
"Who is your doctor?" Gideon asked.

Will’s eyes droop, but then he shakes it off. Wipes sweat from his brow with his free hand, "Drive."

~~~~

Clarice returned to the S.U.V. and saw that Will was no longer in the back seat, she looked down before quickly running to her own vehicle and turning it on then she gunned the engine and speed off. 

Where in the hell did he go?

Damn it, she should have stayed with him but Jack hadn't said anything about her staying with Will to watch him. 

Her eyes narrowed in thought, maybe he went Dr. Lecter's? She started to drive in that direction, praying that she gets there and finds that Will is there unharmed but confused about why he was there...

 **Hannibal's House**  
  
Hannibal has opened his door, he looked surprised, on Abel Gideon and a pale and sweating Will, holding a gun on Gideon’s back. Hannibal backs inside, allowing Gideon and Will to enter.

Where's Clarice? Why wasn't she with Will?  
  
"Will, what are you doing here?" Hannibal asked instead.

Will closes the door behind him, keeping the gun on Gideon. Only to Will, he looks exactly like Garret Jacob Hobbs.  
  
Garret Jacob Hobbs sits at the head of the table. Will stands between Hannibal and Hobbs.  
  
"I didn’t know where else to go. I’m... I’m having a hard time thinking. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know what’s real." Will stated.  
  
Will points his gun at Gideon, who remains silent, observing Hannibal’s navigation of the situation.  
  
"It’s 7:27 PM. You’re in Baltimore, Maryland. Your name is Will Graham." Hannibal said  
  
"I don’t care who I am. Tell me..." Will said then he motioned to her. "...if he’s real."  
  
"Who do you see, Will?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Garret Jacob Hobbs." Will responded. "Who do you see?"  
  
"I don’t see anyone." Hannibal answered.

The admission throws Will into more confusion. Will fights the welling tears, terrified of his madness, "He’s. Right. There." Will said.  
  
"There’s no one there, Will." Hannibal said.

Will shakes his head, glancing over and seeing Garret Jacob Hobbs staring quietly back at him, "You’re lying."  
  
"We’re alone. You came here alone. Do you remember coming here?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Please don’t lie to me." Will said.  
  
"Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. You killed him. You watched him die." Hannibal said.

Will holds his head, trying desperately to hold on and said, "What’s happening to me..."  
  
"You’re having an episode. I want you to hand me your gun." Hannibal said. Will shakes his head through confusion, shudders, goes still. "Will?" Will's pupils dilated dramatically. Hannibal examines Will’s eyes, "He’s had a mild seizure."  
  
"That doesn’t seem to bother you." Gideon said.  
  
"I said it was mild." Hannibal said he removed the gun from Will’s hand, directing at Gideon. "Are you the man who claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper?"  
  
"Why do you say claimed?" Gideon asked.

"Because you’re not. You know you’re not and you don’t know much more about who you are beyond that." Hannibal said. Gideon is struck silent by that assessment. Hannibal sits opposite Gideon at the dining table. "A terrible thing to have your identity taken from you."  
  
"I’m taking it back one piece at a time. You should see the pieces I got out of my psychiatrist." Gideon said.  
  
"Alana Bloom was one of your psychiatrists, too. Is that right?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Yes. Dr. Bloom." Gideon said.  
  
"I can tell you where to find her." Hannibal said.

~~~~  
  
Will stared into middle distance and blinks.  
  
"Will... can you hear me?" Hannibal asked. Will slowly nods, disoriented. "Repeat after me." He then repeated. "My name is Will Graham."  
  
"My name is Will Graham." Will repeated.  
  
"Raise both of your arms." Hannibal said. Will does as instructed, Hannibal studies them, then gently pushes them back down again. "Although you may not feel like it,  
I need you to smile." Will does as instructed. "It wasn’t a stroke." He then adds. "You may have had a seizure. Tell me the last thing you remember."  
  
"I was with Garret Jacob Hobbs." Will said.  
  
"You have a fever. You were hallucinating. You thought he was alive. In the room with you." Hannibal said.  
  
"I saw him." Will said.  
  
"He’s a delusion disguising reality. Don’t let that let you slip away. You killed Garret Jacob Hobbs once. Can find a way to kill him again." Hannibal said as he places his car keys on the dining room table.  
  
"Where are you going?" Will asked.

Hannibal moves toward the door, shrugging on his coat, "I’m worried about Alana Bloom. Abel Gideon is still at large. He mutilated Dr. Chilton. They found him clinging to life. Will..."  
  
"Alana." Will said.

Will stands but Hannibal gently pushes him back down, "You’re in no state to go anywhere but the hospital. I’ll call Jack Crawford. Tell him where you are."

Hannibal exits and returns with the telephone, dialing but Will is already gone. Hannibal hangs up the phone, content.

~~~~

A knock is on his door, Hannibal walked over to it and answered it keeping his pleasure to himself when he saw that it was Clarice. 

"Sorry about coming here at such a late hour but is Will here?"

"I'm sorry, Clarice...you just missed him."

"Great, do you know where he went?" Clarice asked. "Was he fine?"

"He might have had a seizure." Hannibal finally admitted at first unsure if he should tell her but Clarice would be upset if she learned about it through someone else.

Clarice winced at that but she then repeated her first question, "Do you know where he went then?"

"Probably to Dr. Bloom, Dr. Gideon would be after her as well."

"Thanks!" Clarice said before she turned and ran back to her still running car, the driver's door was still open. Hannibal watched as she jumped into the seat and slammed the door before speeding off.

If anything terrible was happening with him, would she act like that? With that much worry and concern? He couldn't help but wonder.

She was beautiful in her worry and concern.  
  
**ALANA’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Framed by the window pane, Alana Bloom works at her desk. Gideon stands outside her window, some distance away, studying her. Then it's shown that Will standing behind him.  
  
"I don’t know if I’ll feel like myself again. I don’t know if there’s a self left to feel like. I spent so much time believing I was him it got harder to remember who I was when I wasn’t him." Gideon stated.  
  
"Who are you now?" Will asked. In Will’s mind on fire, he appears to be Garret Jacob Hobbs.  
  
"You."

Will is horrified by Garret Jacob Hobbs’ comparison.  
  
Gideon turns his attention back to Alana in the window, "We’re both here. Looking at her. Just those kind of people who shouldn’t be in a relationship. You and I are already committed. Hard to be with another person when you can’t get out of your own head."  
  
"I want to get out." Will said.  
  
"We all want things we can’t have." Gideon said as he motioned to Alana. "If I kill her... like he would kill her... I wonder if I could understand him better, hear the cold drips in his darkness, watch the world through his red haze."

He turns to Will and once more to Will is still seeing Garret Jacob Hobbs and not Gideon.  
  
"I wonder if then you could finally understand who you’ve become."  
  
Will stares at him and for a moment, he seemed clear headed.

~~~~

Alana jumps at the sudden sound of a gunshot outside.

~~~

Will is sweating, breathing heavily. The gun drops from his hand and drops next to Gideon.

Then Clarice suddenly appeared before him with a halo of light around her almost as if she is some heavenly being as she gently placed her hands on Will's face, her lips moving but he heard no sound coming from her moving mouth and together she and him kneeled down. Will rested his forehead on her shoulder as she turned her head to look over her shoulder to look at someone behind them, yelling something at them.  
  
**F.B.I. ACADEMY - JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Jack stares at pictures of Abel Gideon on his corkboard before pulling them down, along with the maps of his escape.  
  
"They’ll be sewing Dr. Chilton back together until morning. If he lives through the night." Jack said.  
  
"At least Will remains in one piece. For now. His temperature is 105. White blood cell count is twice normal. They still can’t identify the source of the infection." Hannibal said.  
  
"They will." Jack stated.  
  
"You seem confident." Hannibal said.  
  
"Even with a 105 degree fever, Will brought Gideon down. He’s going to be fine. I told you. Will always comes back to being Will." Jack said.  
  
"Will’s sense of self has not been constant or even continuous. How he thinks of what he does is becoming less and less evident." Hannibal said. "I would recommend you suspend his license to carry firearms."

Jack glanced at Hannibal, that’s a serious recommendation. "Are you having a difference of opinion about who Will is?" Jack asked.  
  
"I know who Will is. Will knows who he is. But our experiences shape us, Jack. How are Will’s experiences shaping him?" Hannibal asked.  
  
**HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT**

Alana sat on the bed and watches over unconscious Will, he’s hooked up to an IV and several monitors. On the other side of the bed was Clarice, both women were gazing at Will united in their concern for him.

Alana finally takes his hand in hers with Clarice already holding his other hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And two more episodes to go...or six parts to go since I am separating them into 3 lol


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opera date will happen in one of these parts :D Aren't we so excited?

**Relevés Part 1**

**BEDELIA’S HOME OFFICE - AFTERNOON**

Bedelia Du Maurier and Hannibal Lecter are inside sitting in front the large windows, Bedelia sat opposite Hannibal in her office.  
  
"Will Graham is troubled." Hannibal said.  
  
"And that troubles you beyond professional concern for a patient." Bedelia said.  
  
"I see his madness, and I want to contain it. Like an oil spill." Hannibal said.  
  
"Oil is valuable. What value does Will Graham's madness have for you?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"You suggesting I'm more fascinated with the madness than the man." Hannibal said.  
  
"Are you?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"No." Hannibal said. Bedelia studies the simplicity of Hannibal's reply, allowing her silence to coax more out of him. "Will realized early on that he saw things differently than other people. Felt things differently."   
  
"So did you." Bedelia said.  
  
"I see myself in Will." Hannibal said.

"Do you see yourself in his madness?" Bedelia asked.

Hannibal considers his answer before speaking it, "Madness can be a medicine for the modern world. You take it in moderation, it's beneficial."  
  
"You overdose and there are unfortunate side effects." Bedelia said.  
  
"Side effects can be temporary. They can be a boost to our psychological immune systems to help fight the existential crises of normal life." Hannibal said.  
  
"Will Graham doesn't present you with problems from normal life."   
  
"No, he doesn't." Hannibal does.  
  
"What does he present you with?" Bedelia asked.

"The opportunity for friendship." Hannibal said.

A simpler answer than she was expecting and she said, "He's still your patient, Hannibal. When it comes to Will Graham, if your impulse is to step forward, force yourself to take a step back."  
  
"And just watch him lose his mind?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Sometimes all we can do is watch." Bedelia admitted.

Hannibal is uncomfortable with that prospect...

"What about Clarice Starling?"

"What about her?" Hannibal countered as he looked at the woman.

Bedelia eyed him before she said, "What does she present you with?"

Hannibal is silent at first but then he said, "She presents a lot of things to me."

"Friendship and a most likely romance option." Bedelia guessed correctly.

"Yes but Clarice is guarded with her emotions." Hannibal said. "I feel that if I should bring romance to her, she'll shut down and avoid me."

"And you don't want that."

"No."

Bedelia is silent as she watched Hannibal and they both lapsed into silence...

 

**HOSPITAL - GEORGIA MADCHEN'S ROOM - NIGHT**

Georgia Madchen is in a hyperbaric chamber. Will approaching in hospital attire, pulling his wheeled IV stand, which leads into his arm. Clarice was sleeping back in his hospital room, ignoring all attempts to get her to sleep in a comfortable bed back at her apartment. She had threatened to hand cuff herself to her chair if he ever thought about forcing her out of his room.

Will presses the intercom to speak with Georgia, "You look better."  
  
"Do I look alive?" Georgia asked.

Will nodded his head and said, "You look pretty."

Georgia hasn't felt pretty in some time, it takes her a moment to absorb a compliment from a handsome man. She self-consciously brushes her hair back, "Must be all the oxygen." There was a pause. "They said I'm not responding to the anti-psychotics. Have you ever taken anti-psychotics?"  
  
"Never thought I needed to. Before." Will said.  
  
"Before when?" Georgia asked.  
  
"Before now." Will said.  
  
"They say what's wrong with you?" Georgia asked.  
  
"Just the fever. They're trying to find out what else." Will answered.

"They won't find anything. They'll keep looking and keep giving you tests and keep giving you false diagnosis and bad medicine. But they won't find anything wrong. They'll just know you're wrong." Georgia said. "I hope you have good insurance."  
  
"I hope I do, too." Will said.  
  
"They're going to give me shock treatment. Electroconvulsive therapy is what they called it but shock treatment sounds nicer." Georgia said.  
  
"People who have what you have can recover with shock treatment." Will said.  
  
"Know how many times I've been told I would recover with some kind of treatment? They don't know what I have. They're still guessing." Georgia said.  
  
"Maybe they know this time." Will said.  
  
"They said I might remember what I did. I don't want to remember." Georgia said.  
  
"You know what you did, Georgia." Will said.  
  
"But I don't remember it. I don't remember it like I did it. It feels more like some horrible dream where I killed my friend." Georgia said.  
  
"You dream about killing anyone else?" Will asked.  
  
"I dreamt you killed that doctor." Georgia answered.

 _ **Faceless Hannibal kills Dr. Sutcliffe as Georgia looks on.**_  
  
"But I couldn't see your face." Georgia said.

Will is haunted by that...

"Where's Clarice?" Georgia asked both women had gotten quite close during Georgia's and then Will's stay here, Georgia found Clarice to be quite funny, always ready withe a funny quip and retort.

Will blinked before he smiled and said, "Back at my room, sleeping...as always."

"She's like your personal guardian angel, isn't she?"

"...Yeah, something like that."  
  
**HOSPITAL - WILL GRAHAM'S ROOM - NIGHT**

Will opened his eyes, stirring as an aroma hits him. He sat up in bed as Hannibal popped the lid on a second Tupperware container allowing the steam to escape a rich amber broth. His eyes then fell on Clarice who is sleeping on the couch, covered by a blanket and arms curled around the first pillow. Hannibal must have put the blanket back on her, when Will had returned she had kicked off the blanket and had proceeded to kick it off again when Will had placed it over her again. Will then left it off her because he wasn't interested in getting into a blanket war with the young woman.

"Smells delicious." Will said.  
  
"Silkie chicken in a broth. A black boned bird prized in China for its medicinal value since the 7th century. With wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates and star anise." Hannibal explained. "How long has she been here?" He motioned towards the slumbering Clarice.  
  
"You made me chicken soup." Will said. "She's been here since I was brought here, she hasn't left here expect to shower and eat...and to go to classes."

Hannibal offered a supportive smile. Of course he did. Then he goes to Clarice and placed a gently hand on her shoulder.

"Clarice?"

"Mm, I'm awake..." Came the sleepy response but she kept her eyes closed. "Hard to sleep when something smells good."

"Would you like some?"

That caused her to open her eyes to look at him before she looked at Will, "No...he needs it more than I do." She yawned hugely.

"Are you sure?" Will asked.

"Mmmhmm." Clarice said sleepily. "I need sleep more than I need food...."  
  
They sit silhouetted by the window, reminiscent of the first meal they shared together. Talking quietly so they won't wake Clarice up.  
  
"The nurses tell me you've been wandering, Will." Hannibal said.

"I was awake. And wandering with purpose and good intentions." Will said.  
  
"Visiting that unfortunate young woman suffering from delusions?" Hannibal asked. "And not just you but Clarice as well."  
  
"She's my support group." Will said. "And Clarice is both of ours, she brings laughter to us...she's quite entertaining too you should see what she does when I have to get poked with needles."  
  
"And I hope you're her's. Nothing more isolating than mental illness." Hannibal said. "What does she do?"  
  
"I know Dr. Sutcliffe was a friend." Will said. "She acts like she feels my pain and goes all dramatic in her feign pain." He smiled at the memory.  
  
"She didn't murder Dr. Sutcliffe. Her disease did. I can't blame her for his death any more than you can be blamed for shooting Abel Gideon." Hannibal said as he smiled at Clarice's antics.  
  
"The hallucinations, the loss of time, sleepwalking. Could that have all just been the fever?" Will asked.

Hannibal considers saying what Will wants to hear or what he wants Will to hear, then simply replies, "It's possible."

Not confident enough an answer for Will and he asked, "What else is possible?"  
  
"Fevers can be symptoms of dementia. Dementia can be a symptom of many things happening in your body or mind that can no longer be ignored." Hannibal asked.  
  
"Does Jack know?" Will asked.  
  
"That this could be more than a fever? No. I haven't told him." Hannibal said.  
  
"Shouldn't you?" Will asked.  
  
"Not until we know for certain. What we must do now is continue to support and monitor your recovery." Hannibal said. "The young woman you were visiting. How is her recovery?"  
  
"I don't think she wants to recover. Afraid to remember what she did." Will said.  
  
"Can't say I blame her." Hannibal said with a veiled threat...

**HOSPITAL - GEORGIA MADCHEN'S ROOM - NIGHT**

Georgia Madchen wakes with a start. Hands shooting up to touch the glass tube above her, she catches her breath as she realizes where she is again. She is in the glass of the Hyperbaric chamber she stares at her reflection. Realizing there's something odd in that mirror image. She finds a plastic comb that was tucked beneath it. Studying the comb, Georgia's gaze returns to her reflection. She raises the comb to her hair and runs its plastic teeth through her tangled, dry hair. As the comb finishes its run through her hair, a spark of static electricity. The spark is fed by the pure, pressurized oxygen in the chamber. A roiling fireball unfurls down the length of the tube before splashing back and engulfing Georgia. She's consumed by flame. The hyperbaric chamber is filled with fire as poor Georgia Madchen is incinerated.

**HOSPITAL - GEORGIA MADCHEN'S ROOM - DAY**

Smoke stained the walls and the high tech hyperbaric chamber. Brian studied the charred remains of Georgia Madchen as Jimmy studied the charred remains of the chamber. Jack, Clarice and Will stand nearby. Will is still wearing his hospital robe, holding his rolling IV stand.

"Hospital speculates a short circuit could have ignited the fire." Jack said.  
  
"Unit looks well maintained. No exposed wiring." Jimmy said.  
  
"Don't know if she suffocated or burned to death. We'll look for soot in the lining of her airways." Brian said.

Will fights the overwhelming sadness of Georgia's life, "Horrible way to die." Clarice has her hands over her mouth as she stared at Georgia's body.  
  
"A kid in Italy was in one of these things. A spark of static electricity from his pajamas set it off. Two cubic yards of oxygen became two cubic yards of fire." Jimmy said.  
  
"Could she have started the fire?" Jack asked.

Will and Clarice are disturbed by that thought, a thought Zeller finds evidence to support. He pulls a blackened anti-static wrist strap out of the Oxygen Chamber.  
  
"She wasn't wearing her grounding bracelet. Prevents build up of static electricity. Took it off." Brian stated.

"Suicide? By immolation." Clarice said in disbelief. "That's not the normal choice of those who are having suicidal thoughts."

"She was facing two murder charges." Jack said.  
  
"She wasn't suicidal, Jack. She was sick. I was here. I spoke to her." Will said.  
  
"Why did you speak to her?" Jack asked.  
  
"Because I know what she felt like." Will answered.  
  
"She tried to kill you. She's a murder suspect. Being her friend impacts the case against her." Jack stated.  
  
"The case against her doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" Will asked. And with that, Will and Clarice exit. Clarice had a gently hand on his back as she walked next to him, looking over her shoulder at Jack before she looked away. Jack watching them go...

**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - COMMON ROOM - DAY**

Abigail and Freddie are working at a table.

"We could use the articles I wrote at the time of each of the murders as book chapter headings." Freddie lays out pictures of eight girls as she organizes the work space with note cards and police records. She sets up a small recording device near Abigail and presses record. "Chapters themselves are you telling your story: where you were and what you were thinking when one by one eight girls, just like you, all over Minnesota, were disappearing."

Abigail shifts in her seat, changing the subject, "What are we going to call it?"  
  
"Thought about "The Last Victim" but there's already a book about serial killers called _The Last Victim_." Freddie said.  
  
"Was it a best-seller?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Oh yeah. Especially after the guy who wrote it killed himself." Freddie said.

"Just as well. Wasn't really my dad's last victim anyway, was I?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Who was?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Marissa." Abigail said.  
  
"Marissa Schuur was killed by the Copy Cat. So was Cassie Boyle." Freddie said.  
  
"I still blame my dad." Abigail said.  
  
"Blame him for Nick Boyle's death?" Freddie asked.  
  
"I blame Nick Boyle for Nick Boyle's death. He killed Marissa. He got what was coming to him." Abigail said.  
  
"Nick Boyle didn't kill your friend." Freddie said.  
  
"Then who did?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Better question is who killed Nick." Freddie said.

 _ **Abigail stabs Nick Boyle, answering the question posed.**_  
  
"Nick Boyle was just a dumb kid who was really messed up because his sister was murdered. He wasn't a killer. I've interviewed enough killers to know one when I see one." Freddie said. "What gives them away? It's a very specific brand of hostility. I see it every time I look at Will Graham."   
  
"He did kill my dad." Abigail said.  
  
"As far as I'm concerned, he killed Nick Boyle. He and Jack Crawford. Told everyone he was the Copy Cat. And someone murdered him for it." Freddie said.  
  
"You really don't think he did it." Abigail said.  
  
"Whoever killed Nicholas Boyle killed an innocent man." Freddie said.

Abigail flinches imperceptibly. She was the one who killed Nick. It’s the secret she shares with Hannibal.

**Clarice's Brick House Night**

Clarice was eating dinner as well as getting some stuff together to head to the hospital afterwards.

After she was done, she quickly grabbed her jacket, scarf and gloves as well as her purse and left the house. Locking the door and getting into her car, she drove off heading to the hospital. 

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - NIGHT**

Will is asleep in his bed. Eyes flitting below eyelids, a sheen of sweat on his brow. The dogs are crowded together for warmth near the fireplace. His eyes open slowly. He leans up on an elbow. A few feet away from his bed is Georgia Madchen, a melancholy expression on her face as she stands over him. Will rises only to find that Georgia is gone. He looks to the dogs and sees that they sleep undisturbed. Will goes to the front door and follows Georgia outside. Will steps onto the porch. Georgia stands at a remove from the house.

"See? See?" She said.

Will watched, staggered, as immense antlers impale Georgia from behind, her back arching. As if from the heat of the immense antlers, Georgia's body bursts into flame, disappearing in fire revealing the black stag. It stares deeply into Will. He can't breath..

**HOSPITAL - WILL GRAHAM'S ROOM - NIGHT**

Will wakes up with a start, he looked towards the couch to see Clarice sleeping. Her jacket, gloves, scarf and purse were placed on the ground next to her. He didn't know how long she was there or if she had seen him during his nightmare but if she had she would have waken him up.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opera date!! Woohoo!!!

**Relevés Part 2**

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY**

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked.

Will approached Jack at his desk, "Checked myself out of the hospital." Jack looked behind him to see Clarice standing there, she just shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.  
  
"Check yourself back in." Jack said.  
  
"Fever broke." Will said.  
  
"I don't care." Jack said.  
  
"Georgia Madchen didn't commit suicide. And whatever happened to her wasn't an accident." Will said.  
  
"I'm going to have Z come down here and put a thermometer in you and if I see a temperature above 99..." Jack threatened.  
  
"She was murdered, Jack." Will said.  
  
"By who?" Jack asked.  
  
"By whoever killed Dr. Sutcliffe." Will said.  
  
"His blood was all over Georgia Madchen. Her DNA was all over him." Jack said.  
  
"She wasn't a serial killer." Will said.  
  
"She was delusional. We don't know what she was capable of." Jack said.  
  
"She knew what she was capable of." Will said. "She told me there was someone else there. She couldn't see his face."  
  
"There was someone else there. Sutcliffe. And she couldn't see his face because she cut it in half." Jack said. "I know you're looking for an explanation to make this all right."  
  
"There isn't one. There was something wrong with her. We'll never know what that is. Just that she was wrong. However many doctors she saw, however much help she got, she was fighting that wrong alone." Will said.  
  
"You can't do anything about that." Jack said.  
  
"All her adult life this woman was misunderstood. What I can do is make sure her death isn't misunderstood. She didn't kill herself. This wasn't an accident." Will said.

Jack considering Will's convictions and a glance at Clarice told him that she also shared the same opinion as Will..

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY**

A burned Georgia Madchen lying on an open morgue drawer. Brian, Jimmy, Jack, Clarice and Will stand over the charred remains of Georgia Madchen.  
  
"Dismantled the oxygen chamber to see if we could find evidence of someone tampering with the wiring or a short circuit. Nothing." Brian said.  
  
"Then what sparked the fire?" Jack asked  
  
"Inconclusive." Brian said.  
  
"Not conclusively inconclusive." Jimmy said as he turns their attention to a small band of melted plastic. "Found this. Thought it might have been part of the bed or monitoring equipment, but mass spectrometer said it was celluloid plastic. They don't use plastic in these things."  
  
"It generates static electricity." Clarice said.

Jack takes the band of plastic, studying it.  
  
"It was by her head. Her hair was melted into it. Preserved almost like it was in amber." Brian said.

Clarice and Will taking in the sad dead girl...  
  
_**Will looks at Georgia, who self-consciously touches her hair...**_  
  
"Could it have been a plastic comb?" Will asked.  
  
"Static charge from a plastic comb in a highly oxygenated environment would have a powerful accelerant." Jimmy said.  
  
"Everything combustible in there would combust." Brian said.

Will looks at the melted plastic in Jack's hand, "You're holding the murder weapon."

"Or what she used to kill herself." Jack said.

A morgue drawer open revealing the body of Dr. Sutcliffe on a separate drawer than Georgia Madchen's charred remains. Jack, Will, Clarice, Zeller and Price are gathered around the slack-jawed dead.  
  
"Whoever killed Sutcliffe wanted to kill him how Georgia Madchen killed her victim. But not exactly how." Clarice said.  
  
"Georgia Madchen carved up her victim's face. Sutcliffe was nearly decapitated at the jaw." Brian said.  
  
"She went further the second time. Serial killers often do." Jack said.

Will's mind whirls around the details and facts, then he said, "She was copied. Like whoever killed Marissa Schuur and Cassie Boyle wanted to copy how Garret Jacob Hobbs killed his victims."  
  
_**Marissa Schuur hangs impaled on antlers in the Hobbs cabin.**_  
  
_**Cassie Boyle impaled on the severed stag head in the field.**_  
  
"But not exactly how." Will said.  
  
"Wait, wait. Hold on. Now you're telling me Dr. Sutcliffe was killed by Garret Jacob Hobbs' Copy Cat?" Jack asked in disbelief.  
  
"And so was Georgia Madchen. Because he thinks she saw his face." Will said.  
  
"You said Nicholas Boyle was the Copy Cat. His blood was on one of the victims. Nicholas Boyle's dead." Jack said.  
  
"Then he wasn't the copy cat." Will said.

Jack studied Will as Clarice studied Jack...  
  
**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY**

Jack faces Hannibal, who sits behind his desk.  
  
"Could this be more than a fever? Will's connecting murders that previously had no connection." Jack said.  
  
"Beyond his involvement in the investigations." Hannibal said.  
  
"That's right." Jack said.  
  
"You're wondering if the lines are blurring or if he's onto something." Hannibal said.  
  
"I'm wondering all sorts of things." Jack said.  
  
"May I ask, do you believe Georgia Madchen was murdered?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"There's evidence to suggest her death was intentional but it could have easily been by her own hand." Jack said.  
  
"This woman was bested by madness. Perhaps what Will can't accept is that she took her own life so she wouldn't kill again." Hannibal said.  
  
"Why is that so hard to accept?" Jack asked.  
  
"If she could survive her delusions, then maybe he could survive his." Hannibal said. "He was hallucinating when he shot Abel Gideon. In his mind, he was killing Garret Jacob Hobbs. Again."  
  
"What's Will's relationship with Abigail Hobbs these days?" Jack asked.  
  
"Complicated." Hannibal answered.  
  
"Three deaths in the Garret Jacob Hobbs case haven't been solved. The third being our only suspect in the first two murders." Jack said.  
  
"Nicholas Boyle? Will believes his murder is connected to the others?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"No. I do. Will isn't asking any questions about Nicholas Boyle." Jack stated.  
  
"What questions would he ask?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"The same questions I've been asking. About Abigail Hobbs."  
  
"You think Will's protecting her."  
  
"Has been since he killed her father. Just don't know from what."  
  
"I can't imagine he would hide anything criminal from you. I've only ever known Will Graham as a man striving to be his best self." Hannibal said.  
  
"You haven't known him very long. But we both know him well enough to know he hasn't been himself." Jack said.  
  
"Will needs our support, whether or not mental illness is involved." Hannibal said.  
  
"Is it mental illness or does his mind just work so differently we don't know what else to call it?" Jack asked.  
  
"There are days when even Will doesn't understand his thinking." Hannibal said.

Jack Crawford studied Hannibal. There is something the psychiatrist is hiding, he can sense it. 

**Clarice's House Night**

Clarice was lying on her stomach in her master bedroom, writing in her notebook her legs were bent and crossed at the ankle. A pillow was propped up underneath her chest for support as she wrote. Her cell phone goes off and she answered it without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello? Clarice Starling speaking."

"Hello, Clarice." Hannibal's voice said from the other end of the phone.

Clarice smiled and said, "Ah, Dr. Lecter what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you were free tonight?"

"Mmm." Clarice hummed thoughtfully. "Yes, I am...why?"

"Because I was wondering if you would like to go to the opera with me?" Hannibal said. "I have two tickets with me."

Clarice bit the head of her pen as she thought before she pulled it away and said, "Of course, I would love to go with you...I'll get ready quickly."

"I'll see you soon then, Clarice." Hannibal said before he hanged up the phone. And Clarice sprang off the bed and quickly stripped, heading into her bathroom and taking the fastest shower that a woman had ever taken. Making sure she had shaved and didn't miss a spot.

She walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around herself and a small towel wrapped around her hair. Clarice walked into her large walk-in closet and pulled the black strapless dress that her mother had gotten her. She walked out and hanged it up on the closet door, Clarice walked back into the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. She pulled one side of her hair to the side with a crystal covered hair clip. Then she walked back to her closet and put the dress on before she slipped into her high heels.

Then Clarice walked to the mirror that she had in her room, looking at her reflection in the floor length mirror. She was wearing a black strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline, the floor-length formal evening gown had a figure-flattering trumpet silhouette. Clarice had to hand it to her mother, she knew how to pick clothing that would fit Clarice's figure and looks.

She heard a knock at the door and she grabbed her formal purse and formal black shawl, Clarice walked down the stairs and opened the front door. Clarice smiled when she saw who it was.

"Hello, Dr. Lecter." Clarice said smiling.

Hannibal took in her appearance, he was right to wait to ask her to go with him to the opera: Clarice did indeed look beautiful when she was properly made up. He had been surprised when she had opened her front door and he had seen this beautiful vision, it had caught him off guard.

"You look beautiful, Clarice." Hannibal said.

"Thank you, Dr. Lecter." Clarice said with a smile. "You look handsome."

Hannibal offered her his arm and said, "You're quite welcome. Thank you...shall we be off?"

"Of course, we don't want to be late." Clarice said as she weaved her arm through his and together they walked to his car.

He opened the passenger side door for her and Clarice smiled at him before she climbed into the car buckling in while Hannibal shuts the door and walked around the front where he opened and climbed into the driver's seat. Hannibal starts the car and drives off.

They are silent as they drive, Hannibal can smell her perfume and knew that it would linger for a while in his car long after she is gone.

**OPÉRA DE L'OUEST - MCCLUSTER HALL**

Hannibal and Clarice arrived at the McCluster Hall to see _Opera De L'ouest_. He had gotten tickets for a private balcony so he guided her up the stairs and led her to their seats, where they sat down next to each other. Clarice glanced down at the pamphlet that they were given before she grabbed the small binoculars that they were given and peered through them towards the stage.  

"See anyone that you know?"

Clarice looked towards another balcony across the way and said, "Yep, I see my adopted parents...balcony across from us....I don't think the- never mind, she sees us." She waved to her mother across the hall before she lowered the binoculars just as Hannibal raised his own and looked through them in the direction of her adopted parents. The older man and woman were whispering as they glanced over to them.

But before he could ask questions, the opera began and the two turned their attention to the stage.

Soprano portrayed the noble lady Lenora from Verdi’s Trovatore, “Tacea la notte placinda” vibrating from her vocal chords. Hannibal's eyes soften and crinkle, enjoying the feast of sound around him and the woman beside him who was watching the stage with interest. In the string section, bows draw menacingly up into frame, appearing to float briefly before slashing down.

Hannibal looked down at the small, delicate hand on the arm rest next to his. She had painted her nails red to match the color and texture of the lip gloss that she had on her lips. Both nails and lips have a shinny look to them, like liquid. He fisted his hand because he wanted to hold hers and bring it up to his lips and kiss the delicate skin of her wrist.

Violins reach a fever.

Hannibal listens intently as he watches the conductor's baton carve the air with force and purpose. Simultaneously, Conductor and Hannibal (playing the “home game” from his seat) sharply part their hands. As instructed, the cymbal player prepares to crash instruments. From the corner of her eye, Clarice see this and smiles at the sight.

The noble lady Lenora clutched her heart as she held her final note, which she sustains over the following. Lenora’s sustained note finally stops and applause erupt from the Opera House.

Hannibal is first to his feet applauding enthusiastically followed closely by Clarice.

~~~~

Afterwards Clarice and Hannibal were walking down the stairs arm in arm as they talked about the play.

"It was wonderful!" Clarice praised smiling widely. "I loved the music and story."

Hannibal led Clarice to an outside courtyard to they can continue to talk in private, he wasn't ready to show her to the rest of Baltimore’s cultural elite just yet he wanted to keep her to himself for a little while longer.

"I am happy to hear that." Hannibal said. "And you didn't fall asleep like you adopted mother had said you would."

Clarice laughed at his gentle teasing, "That's right."

They arrived at the center of the courtyard and Clarice pulled away from Hannibal to stand a few feet from him, swaying to the music in her head. Hannibal watched silently for a few minutes before he walked towards her and tapped her shoulders. Clarice jumped in surprise before she turned to look at him, he offered her his hand in a manner fitting a man asking a woman to dance.

"May I have this dance?" Hannibal asked.

Clarice looked at him before she smiled and nodded her head, she placed her hand in his and her other hand was placed gently on his shoulder while Hannibal gently gripped her hand and placed his other hand on her waist then they started to dance around the courtyard with gently snow fall falling around them.

"You learned how to dance." Hannibal stated when he noticed that Clarice was matching his steps like it was second nature to her.

She smiled and said, "Yes, my mother insisted that I learned how to dance so that I can impress would be suitors...I wanted to learn because I loved dancing."

Hannibal spun her around as he started to led her into a much more complicated dance, he had been dancing in a easy to learn manner but once he heard that he wanted to test her.

Clarice's eyes widen in surprise but she was able to match him step for step until he spun her one last time and dipped her. She laughed, her head tilted back and back arched. Hannibal gently lifted her back to a standing position and released her, taking a step back.

"You dance beautifully, Clarice."

"Only because I had you as my dance partner, Dr. Lecter." Clarice said smiling. "It would have looked weird if I was dancing by myself."

Hannibal smiled before he once more offered her his arm, which she took and together they walked back to his car. Talking and laughing, leaning their heads close together almost as if they were lovers.

**BEDELIA’S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT**

Bedelia rises to answer the knocking at the door. She peers through an eyehole. Intrigued. Bedelia swings open the door.  
  
"Dr. Du Maurier? I’m Special Agent Jack Crawford with the FBI." Jack said flashing ID. "I’d like to speak with you about a patient of yours."

Jack Crawford surveys Bedelia's home as she closes the door behind him.  
  
"Do you have a court order?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"I'd rather not get one." Jack said. "May I sit?"

She gestures him toward a chair and said, "Please." She paused. "So this isn't an official inquiry."  
  
"Not yet. I don't want to damage anyone's reputation unnecessarily." Jack said.  
  
"Whose reputation would that be?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"I suspect Dr. Lecter may be withholding pertinent information involving a murder investigation." Jack said.  
  
"He hasn't confided in the F.B.I., you're hoping he's confided in his psychiatrist and I'll tell you?" Bedelia said.  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Jack said then added when he saw her look. "I don't believe Dr. Lecter is dangerous, but I am concerned about his relationship with a patient of his. A man named Will Graham."  
  
"Without consent or court order, I'd be in breach of confidentiality." Bedelia said.  
  
"If we can't discuss Hannibal Lecter, can we discuss you?" Jack asked. Bedelia eyes Jack Crawford -- what is he up to? "You were attacked by a patient. I read the police report. There was even a statement by Dr. Lecter."  
  
"The patient who attacked me was formerly in Dr. Lecter's care." Bedelia said.  
  
"Dr. Lecter referred him to you?" Jack asked.  
  
"Yes." Bedelia answered.  
  
"And this patient almost killed you." Jack said.  
  
"He swallowed his tongue while he was attacking me. It's the only thing that saved my life." Bedelia said.  
  
"Thank God for small favors." Jack said.  
  
"Yes. Thank god." Bedelia said.  
  
"There was an attack in Dr. Lecter's office involving another patient. Two dead. Including the patient." Jack said.  
  
"Not bad psychology, Agent Crawford. Putting me in a position of having to defend or not defend Dr. Lecter." Bedelia said.  
  
"Have to admit he's had some strange relationships with his patients." Jack said.  
  
"Complicated patients are conducive to complicated relationships." Bedelia said.  
  
"How far would Dr. Lecter go in his therapy to treat a patient? Specifically Will Graham." Jack said.  
  
"Hannibal speaks about Will Graham more like a friend than a patient." Bedelia said.   
  
"Alright. How far would Dr. Lecter go to treat a friend?" Jack asked.  
  
"He doesn't have many of them, so I suspect he would be loyal. I know he's concerned about Mr. Graham and very much wants to help him." Bedelia answered.  
  
"I consider Will a friend. And I want to help him, too." Jack said.  
  
"Seems to me Will Graham could use more friends like Hannibal Lecter." Bedelia said.

Jack takes that in...

**Clarice's House Night**

Clarice was now safely in her house, having been walked to her door by Hannibal who stayed at her door until he was sure she had locked everything in her house. She had then sent him a text to let him know that everything was locked and her alarm and cameras were armed then he had left. Clarice had watched him drive off from her guestroom window, smiling softly to herself.

Clarice was now in her room, taking off her make up and dress, she hanged up her dress and put away her shoes then she got into a white man's dress shirt and climbed into bed.

Salem jumped into bed, purring as he curled up against her chest. He rubbed against her chest before curling into a ball, his furry back pressing against her chest as the cat closed his eyes.

She sleepily smiled as she stroked her cat until she fell herself fell asleep...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal doesn't met her adopted parents.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just three more parts to go now!

** Relevés Part 3 **

**B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY**

The bodies of Dr. Sutcliffe and Georgia Madchen, each lying on a corpse tray extending out from the open morgue drawer.  
  
"Will Graham theorized the Copy Cat killer had some connection to Garret Jacob Hobbs, some personal insight into his life. They may have even met, known each other." Jack said. "Killed together." Jack is speaking to Jimmy and Brian.  
  
"Less of a theory, more of a hypothesis." Brian said.  
  
"Theories require evidence." Jimmy said.  
  
"Let's play Jeopardy. The answer is: these people were killed by the Copy Cat, who has some connection to Garret Jacob Hobbs. Now you ask the right questions." Jack said.  
  
"You mean beyond the application of supposition and unexplained leaps?" Brian asked.  
  
"I've been yearning for a return to the fundamentals of investigation." Jimmy said.  
  
"Where's Beverly?" Jack asked.  
  
"She's still deposed in court." Brian answered.  
  
"Get her out of court." Jack said. "Look at train station, airport, toll road and hotel details. Track Garret Jacob Hobbs through license plate captures on security footage, and every phone call he made and where he made it from."  
  
"I'll see if R&I can loan a couple of clerks to help cross-match." Jimmy said.  
  
"I want to know every place he went that wasn't home. I want to know who he was there with. How long he was there and the travel time to the nearest missing girl in the Minnesota Shrike case." Jack ordered.  
  
**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - COMMON ROOM - DAY**

Will, Clarice and Abigail talk privately near the greenhouse atrium, in hushed tones. The girl was sitting between the two adults. Clarice is mostly silent while Will and Abigail did most of the talking.  
  
"You told me killing somebody was the ugliest thing in the world." Abigail said.  
  
"One of them." Will said.  
  
"I finally get it. I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn't feel ugly when I killed Nick Boyle. I felt good. That's why it was so easy to lie about it." Abigail said.  
  
"Like you'd done nothing wrong." Will said.  
  
"Feel like you were doing something wrong when you were killing my dad?" Abigail asked.

He shakes his head "no" and said, "I felt terrified. The gun I had was taking pieces out of him and he wouldn't go down. I thought he would never die. Then he dropped. Then I felt powerful."  
  
"Do you still feel powerful?" Abigail asked him.  
  
"Right now, I just feel confused." Will answered.  
  
"I feel ugly. You were right. It is one of the ugliest things in the world... when you've killed someone who didn't deserve to die." Abigail said.  
  
"Thought Nick Boyle was a killer." Will said.  
  
"When I killed him, it felt like I was killing my dad. It felt good. To get to end it. To stop him. I thought I got away from him." Abigail said.  
  
"Neither of us have been able to get away from your father." Will said.  
  
"I see him sometimes. In dreams." Abigail said. Will doesn't admit that he does, too. "I wish I had killed him. For killing my mom. For killing all of those girls. For making me..." Her voice trails off, some secrets better left kept.  
  
"Making you what, Abigail?" Clarice asked looking at her curiously.  
  
"Part of it. Part of any of it. This wasn't supposed to be my life. Hard to have anything, isn't it?" Abigail asked.

"Yes, it is." Clarice admitted.  
  
"Rare to get it, hard to keep it. It's a slippery life." Will said.  
  
"Feels like my dad's still out there." Abigail said.  
  
"In a way, he is." Will said.  
  
You mean the Copy Cat?" Abigail asked.

Will nodded his head and said, "I think I can catch him, but I'm going to need your help."  
  
**BEDELIA'S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT**

Bedelia sits opposite Hannibal, mid-session, "An agent from the F.B.I. came to see me. He asked questions about your relationship with Will Graham."  
  
"Jack Crawford was here?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"He had enough doubt in whatever you've told him about your patient, he felt the need to verify." Bedelia stated.

Hannibal feels the weight of what she is telling him, then said, "He believes Abigail Hobbs was involved in her father's crimes and suspects Will is protecting her."  
  
"And evidently he suspects you are protecting Will. Are you?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"Are you asking as my psychiatrist?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I'm stepping out of my role as your psychiatrist and speaking to you now as a friend. Whatever you're doing with Will Graham... stop." Bedelia said though not unkindly.  
  
"Will needs my help." Hannibal said.  
  
"You've crossed professional lines." Bedelia said.  
  
"By making a friend." Hannibal said.  
  
"You can't function as an agent of friendship for a man disconnected from the concept... as a man disconnected from the concept." Bedelia said.  
  
"I'm protecting Will from influence. He has flaws in intuitive beliefs about what makes him who he is. I'm trying to help him understand." Hannibal said.  
  
"You may not be able to." Bedelia said.  
  
"I'm not comfortable telling Will my very best attempts to help him may fail and that my loyalty to him and his treatment could be compromised." Hannibal said.  
  
"Then tell him something else. Jack Crawford asked me about my attack." Bedelia said.  
  
"I see. What did you tell him?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Half-truths. A violent patient swallowed his tongue while attacking me. I didn't tell him how or why or who was responsible." Bedelia said.  
  
"You protect your patient from Jack Crawford, but I can't protect mine?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Not anymore." Bedelia said. "Even the very best psychiatrists have an inherent limitation to their professional ability. That may be difficult for you to accept."  
  
"You're right. It is." Hannibal said.  
  
"You have to maintain boundaries."

A moment as Bedelia studies Hannibal considering options.  
  
"When the pressures of my personal and professional relationships with Will grow too great, I assure you I'll find a way to relieve them." Hannibal said.

"Does that go for Clarice Starling as well?" 

"...Of course, that goes for her too."  
  
**HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - DAY**  
  
Hannibal and Will, mid-session. Clarice was in the room with them, sitting on the couch and watching them. Will had insisted that she came in with him, for what Hannibal had no idea but he allowed it since it was the second time in a long time that Clarice had sat in during Will's session.  
  
"I'm much better now. I feel clearer. It had to be the fever." Will said.  
  
"You checked yourself out of the hospital against the recommendation of your attending physician." Hannibal said.  
  
"He gave me antibiotics." Will said.  
  
"This is not the behavior of someone who is thinking clearly." Hannibal said.  
  
"I'm finally thinking clearly about the Copy Cat." Will said.  
  
"The murders you're attributing to the Copy Cat have suspects, whose DNA was found on the victims." Hannibal said.  
  
"So what?" Will asked.

Hannibal stared, then proceeded calmly, "You're choosing to ignore that?"  
  
"Both of those suspects are dead. I'm choosing to factor that into my psychological profile of a killer." Will said. "Georgia Madchen followed me to Sutcliffe's office. She witnessed his murder, she saw the Copy Cat."  
  
"Why not kill her then and there?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"He must not have had time. She was an unreliable witness. And that bought him the time." Will answered.  
  
"So he framed her for the murder?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"He wasn't planning on framing her. He was planning on framing me." Will said.  
  
"You believe this is personal." Hannibal said.  
  
"If it wasn't before, it is now." Will said. "It could be someone at the Bureau, someone in the police force, someone who knows the crimes, and has access to the investigations."  
  
"Someone like you." Hannibal said.

Will considers that briefly, then dismisses the notion, "There will be evidence. I found a pattern. And now I'm going to reconstruct his thinking."  
  
"How do you intend to do that?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"Take Abigail back to Minnesota. Start where the Copy Cat started. With Garret Jacob Hobbs." Will said.  
  
"Will, this is venturing into the paranoid. I can't allow you to pull Abigail into your delusion." Hannibal said.  
  
"This isn't a delusion. I'm not hallucinating. I haven't lost time. I am awake and this is real." Will said.   
  
Hannibal eyed Will's determination with curious concern. A glance at Clarice told the doctor that she was going to go with him no matter Hannibal had to say to her, protege and mentor were one in this choice.  
  
**F.B.I. ACADEMY - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY**

Brian and Jimmy report to Jack, the former said, "We found train tickets purchased by Garret Jacob Hobbs."  
  
"Tickets." Jack repeated.  
  
"Two." Jimmy said.  
  
"Tickets were for the same train line one of his victims was using." Brian said.  
  
"Elise Nichols." Jack said.  
  
"Found more instances of Hobbs crossing with victims. Dinner receipts for two. Two hotel rooms near the same campuses." Jimmy said.  
  
"We know he wasn't traveling alone." Brian said.

Jack is putting it together before they can tell him, "He was traveling with his daughter."  
  
"They were registered for an orientation program at St. Cloud State on the Mississippi, where the Nichols girl was going to school." Brian said.  
  
"Abigail Hobbs attended orientations at every school where a girl was abducted by the Minnesota Shrike. Within days of the abduction." Jimmy said.  
  
"She was with her father when he chose the girls." Brian stated.  
  
"Or she helped him choose the girls." Jack said.  
  
"The connection the Copy Cat has to Garret Jacob Hobbs could be family." Brian said.  
  
"The Copy Cat was inspired by her own father? Killed Cassie Boyle to impress dad? Killed Marissa Schuur in memorial and then killed Nick Boyle to cover her tracks?" Jack asked.  
  
"Why would she kill Sutcliffe and the Madchen girl?" Brian asked.  
  
"Either she's got a taste for it or she wants to impress someone new." Jack said.  
  
**PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - COMMON ROOM - DAY**

Jack entered flanked by two FBI agents, two police officers. Freddie sitting at a table alone.  
  
"Hello, Agent Crawford." Freddie said.  
  
"Freddie Lounds." Jack said.  
  
"You look like you came here to arrest somebody. Is it Abigail Hobbs or Will Graham?" Freddie asked.  
  
"Will Graham was here?" Jack asked surprised.  
  
"Then it was Abigail Hobbs." Freddie said.  
  
"Where is she?" Jack asked.  
  
"One of the other girls said Special Agent Graham and Clarice Starling snuck her out. Don't know why he would feel the need to be sneaky. He's registered as one of her guardians. The irony." Freddie said.  
  
"Anybody say where they were going? I know you asked."  Jack said.  
  
"Said they were off without a peep. Attendants don't even know they're gone. I wonder what they're up to. Since you came here to arrest Abigail, I'd say it's no good." Freddie said.

Jack doesn't blink as he asked, "How's the book coming?"  
  
"There's some plot holes." Freddie said.  
  
"Tell me how you're filling them in." Jack said.

She eyes Jack, considering all the angles, then she asked, "Did Abigail Hobbs kill Nick Boyle?"  
  
"What makes you say that?" Jack asked.  
  
"You're arresting her for something." Freddie said.  
  
"Can be arresting you for something, too. I'll tear up your chance to tell this story before you take it." Jack said.  
  
"I've already got exclusive life rights to the Abigail Hobbs story. I can write whatever I want about her. Long as it's true, of course." Freddie said.  
  
"Why did you ask me if Abigail Hobbs killed Nick Boyle?" Jack asked.  
  
"Abigail is one of those very smart girls who hasn't figured out that very smart girls grow up and know all the moves they're making when they're trying to hide something." Freddie said. "What's Will Graham trying to hide?"

Jack silently is wondering that very same thing...

**HANNIBAL LECTER'S OFFICE - NIGHT**

Jack confronts Hannibal in his officer, "What the hell is going on between Will Graham and Abigail Hobbs? And not only those two but Clarice Starling too? When did she and Abigail become close?"  
  
"Will has been victim to many unusual and irrational thoughts." Hannibal said. "As for Clarice, I have no idea when she and Abigail became close..."  
  
"Has he acted on those thoughts?" Jack asked.  
  
"Not that I'm aware of or he's aware of, for that matter. But he has experienced periods of lost time." Hannibal said.  
  
"I've seen him confused at crime scenes. He was disoriented." Jack said.  
  
"He may've been confused because he was waking up. Might not have known where he was or how he got there." Hannibal said.  
  
"Waking up?" Jack asked.  
  
"From a dissociated personality state. He would appear perfectly normal and not remember a thing. But a fractured part of him would." Hannibal said.  
  
"You knew about this." Jack said.  
  
"He's only recently started to discuss these episodes." Hannibal said.  
  
"Unless recently was right before I walked into this room, you failed to mention any of this to me." Jack said.  
  
"Because I was trying to determine if it was trauma and stress from the work he does for you... or mental illness. Thought it wise to be sure before making any kind of claim about Will Graham's sanity." Hannibal said.  
  
"He and Clarice took Abigail Hobbs. Any idea where they could be going?" Jack asked.  
  
"No." Hannibal said.  
  
"We have evidence she was involved in her father's crimes. We just don't know how involved." Jack said. Hannibal appears appropriately gobsmacked by this revelation. "Could Will know what she did? Is that why he's been protecting her?"

Hannibal looks like a man who wants to have a heart-to-heart, "There's something you should hear." Hannibal presses play on the recorder and watches Jack listen.  
  
"How did you feel seeing Marissa Schuur impaled in the antler room?" Hannibal's voice asked.  
  
"Guilty." Will's voice answered.  
  
"Because you couldn't save her?" Hannibal's voice asked.  
  
"Because I felt like I killed her." Will's voice answered.

Hannibal presses stop, studying Jack's reaction.  
  
"Where was Will the night Marissa Schuur was murdered?" Jack asked.  
  
"He was supposed to be in his hotel room. I knocked on his door. He didn't answer. He told Alana Bloom he decided to go to bed early." Hannibal said.  
  
"We know Will was in Sutcliffe's office when he was killed. And Will was the last person to visit Georgia Madchen before she died." Jack said.  
  
"Is Will Graham a suspect?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"This dissociated personality state you say he goes into... whose personality is it?" Jack asked.  
  
"Will said he got so close to Garret Jacob Hobbs and what he had done, he felt like he was becoming him.  
  
"Now Will has Hobbs' daughter." Jack said.  
  
"Who Hobbs was intending to kill." Hannibal said.

 

**COMMERCIAL AIRLINER DAY**

Will staring into middle distance as Abigail stared out the window at the world below, Clarice is sitting between them reading a book about Cannibal Serial Killers.  
  
"Minnesota is so flat." Abigail said.  
  
"Blame the glaciers." Will said.  
  
"It's why we have so many lakes." Abigail said.  
  
"Land of 10,000 of them. According to the license plates." Will said.

Abigail glanced at Will as he dug into Clarice's purse and shakes several aspirin into his hand and washed them back. Clarice barely even glanced as him as she to continued to read, already used to him digging into her purse for the aspirin.  
  
"You're looking a little pasty. Maybe you shouldn't have checked yourself out of the hospital." Abigail said.  
  
"I feel fine." Will said.

"You may feel fine but you don't look fine." Clarice quipped as she turned a page.

Abigail studied him a moment, then turned back to the window, "Glaciers ripped up the Minnesota when they retreated into Canada, exposed the irregularities in the earth, filled them up with water."  
  
"Exposing irregularities is good. Can be good. Occasionally not." Will said.

She continued to look out the window as she said, "Good as long as you fill them up with something. Least that's what we did in the Hobbs Family. Would've been my mom's birthday next week. We were gonna climb Eagle Mountain to celebrate. Highest point in Minnesota, but it's not really that high. Less than three hours to summit. You can see Lake Superior from there."  
  
"I'll take you, if you want to go." Will said.  
  
"I think it would just make me sad. Some places are stained now. Some people, too. I know I am." Abigail said.

Clarice looked at Abigail and whispered for her ears only, "Staining can either be a good or bad thing...for me it's both, I can't get near any ranches since that day in my childhood." Abigail looked at her but Clarice smiled and went back to reading.

**HOBBS CABIN - DAY**

A rental car crept down the driveway toward the familiar, yet ominous rustic hunting cabin surrounded by barren trees and drifts of snow. Innocent but for the tragedy inside. Will and Abigail stare in silence at the Rustic Cabin looming as they drive up to the front door. Clarice wasn't with them, she had stayed behind to go shopping for dinner and would met them when she was done. Will and Abigail get out of the car and approach the cabin. The door opened, Will and Abigail silhouetted in the frame. Will and Abigail move cautiously through the space, as if the air itself was still filled with screams.  
  
"The Copy Cat knew your father well enough to know about this place." Will said.  
  
"You felt like you knew my father." Abigail said.  
  
"I tried to know him. I still try." Will said.  
  
"Even after you killed him." Abigail said.  
  
"Maybe even because I killed him. I wanted to understand him. I felt like I had to understand him." Will said.

Abigail runs her fingertips over the point of an antler as she asked, "Do you ever hunt?"  
  
"I fish." Will said.  
  
"Same thing, isn't it. One you stalk, the other you lure. It's a simple distinction, but Will is haunted by it." Abigail said.  
  
"Were you more fisherman or hunter?" Will asked.  
  
"My dad taught me how to hunt." Abigail said.  
  
"That's not what I'm asking. All those girls your father killed. Did you fish or did you hunt, Abigail?" Will asked.

The question hangs in the air, then Abigail answered, "I was the lure." Will more or less hides his profound sadness at that. "Did Hannibal tell you?"  
  
"No. He didn't." Will said.  
  
"He said that you'd protect me. That you'd keep it secret." Abigail said. Will is at a loss for words. He places his hands on Abigail's shoulders; it's terrifying for him to look her in the eyes, to see all of his belief in her innocence gone. He finally meets her gaze, and picks her up and violently shoved her against the wall of antlers, running her through. Abigail's scream... Will stares at the antlers hanging on the wall, empty. No Abigail impaled on them. Instead, she stands behind him. "Something's wrong with you. I  
think you're still sick."

Will reacts, disturbed by the image conjured in his head, "Jack Crawford was right. He knew. You killed Nick Boyle. You helped your father kill all those girls."  
  
"I didn't help my dad kill anyone." Abigail said.  
  
"You lured them. You killed them. Who else have you killed?" Will asked.

Abigail shrinks away from Will, terrified, "Do you think I'm the Copy Cat? You think I killed Marissa?"  
  
"If you didn't kill her, Abigail, someone you know did." Will said as he rubs his head, confused by the images racing through his mind, trying to massage them into coherency.  
  
"Did you ever think maybe that someone could be you. You were there, you saw Marissa. You knew about this place. And there is something wrong with you." Abigail said.

Abigail's accusations bear down, her voice distorting.

**AIRPLANE - NIGHT**

Will blinks. he is sitting alone on the nearly deserted plane. An airline cleaning crew moves through the cabin, collecting discarded trash, wiping down arm rests and tray tables. A member of the Cleaning Crew vacuums in the background.

A flight attendant quietly interrupts Will's confusion, "Sir." Then she continues. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave. We're preparing the cabin for the next passengers."

"I'm sorry." Will said.  
  
"Are you on a connecting flight?" The Flight Attendant asked.  
  
"Where are we?" Will asked.  
  
"Dulles International. Virginia. Is this your final destination?" The woman asked.  
  
"Yes. I think so. I was traveling with two young women." Will said.  
  
"All the other passengers have disembarked. It's just you." She said. Will absently rises from his seat and heads down the aisle. "Sir." She offers Will his coat. He takes it with a nod.  
  
"Thank you." Will said.

As Will walks away, the Flight Attendant watches after him.

 **HOBBS HOUSE Night**  
  
It's raining. A crouching figure pops the screen off the window and slides it open. The crouching figure is Abigail Hobbs soaking wet. She closes the window behind her. Abigail quietly sneaks up the stairs, careful not to make too much noise. The air is perfectly still and her footsteps make nearly no noise as she moves into the kitchen.

Abigail walks in and startles to find Hannibal standing against the counter. Waiting for her. She immediately runs into his arms for a huge hug.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Abigail asked.  
  
"I was worried about you. Will told me he was taking you to Minnesota. I strongly advised against it." Hannibal said. He gently releases the hug, looking Abigail in the eyes. "Where is Will and Clarice, Abigail?"  
  
"I left him at the cabin. Clarice had gone out shopping while we were away. I didn't feel safe with him. So I left him." Abigail said. "He knows everything."  
  
"So does Jack Crawford." Hannibal said.

Abigail's mind spins, her options narrowing, "If I run, they'll catch me, won't they? You can't protect me anymore."  
  
"They'll arrest you when they find you. They'll arrest Will, too." Hannibal said.  
  
"Did he kill Marissa?" Abigail asked.  
  
"They will believe he did. They will believe he killed others, too." Hannibal said.

Abigail stares at Hannibal, awareness dawning, "Will always said whoever called the house that morning was the serial killer. Why did you really call?"  
  
"I wanted to warn your father that Will Graham was coming for him." Hannibal asked.  
  
"Why?" Abigail asked.  
  
"I was curious what would happen." Hannibal said. "I was curious what would happen when I killed Marissa. I was curious what you would do."

A wave of near-nausea washes over her, she pushes it down as she said, "You wanted me to kill Nick Boyle."  
  
"I was hoping. I wanted to see how much like your father you were." Hannibal said.  
  
"Ohmygod." Abigail said.  
  
"Nicholas Boyle is more important for you gutting him. He changed you. That's more important than the life he clamored after." Hannibal said.  
  
"How many people have you killed?" Abigail asked.  
  
"Many more than your father." Hannibal said.

Quiet tears stream as she realizes what she only dare ask, "Are you going to kill me?"

He gently strokes her cheek, then said, "I'm so sorry, Abigail. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you in this life."

**Rental Cabin**

Clarice arrived at their rental cabin, kicking the door shut with her boot covered foot and headed into the kitchen.

"I'm back! Sorry that it took too long, I lost track of time!" Clarice put the grocery bags down. "...Will? Abigail?" She stopped when she didn't hear anything then she went looking for them.

They weren't here.

She took out her cell phone and dialed Will's number, "Come on, Will...pick up the phone...Will! Where are you?" What she heard next almost made her drop her cell. "Nothing, I'll be right there so wait for me!" Clarice hanged up the phone and quickly got her things before she dashed out of the cabin.

She needed to get to Will...


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarice's loyalty to her mentor and friend is shown in these three parts....

**Savoureux Part 1**

**WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY**

Will was in his bed, dawn light streaking through the windows. He looked drawn, ill, groggy. The dogs are barking and he threw back the covers. To reveal his feet and legs are covered in dried mud which smears the bedclothes. The light hurts his eyes. Will is immediately concerned.

A beautiful winter morning. Will shielded his eyes on the porch as the dogs rush out barking. Winston stays by Will’s side. He looked down at him. Winston pushed his head under his hand. The others bark and mill. Something has them thrown, agitated. Will turned back inside.

The dogs fuss around Will as he heads for the sink, and runs the tap good and cold. He drinks from the faucet. He grabbed a bottle of aspirin and weighs four in his palm before swallowing them and then bending back to the faucet, feeling bad. He glugged water, sighing breathes between each swallow. He straightened, wiped his mouth. And then, with sudden violence, he retched and hurled into the sink. And stared. Lying in the sink, spotted with aspirin is a grey, perfectly intact human...Will stared at it...

Will exploded off the porch and dropped to his knees in the yard. Retching and retching but nothing more comes. He looked up. Around. Nothing. Whirled around. Woods all around.

\---

Clarice was woken to her phone ringing, she rolled over and answered her cell phone. She felt her new pet, a German Shepard that she had yet to name move behind her and lift his head to look at her before lying it back down. He was given to her by a friend who bred and trained them for the Police Force.

"Hello...? Will?" Pause. "Wait...what? Hang on, I'll be right there." She hanged up the phone and quickly took a shower, she got dressed and left the house.

~~~~

Will sat on the porch. Shivering. Staring. Clarice was sitting next to him, her arm was wrapped around his shoulder and she rubbed his arm trying to comfort her mentor. Hannibal’s car then pulled up and Hannibal got out, he came to Will and Clarice.  
  
"We went to Minnesota. We took Abigail. We went to Minnesota. She didn’t come back with me or Clarice." Will said.  
  
Hannibal is effectively feigning shock and concern, "Show me." He held out as hand. Will looked at it, looked up at Hannibal as Clarice removed her arm from around him and then took it and stood. Hannibal ushered him inside.  
  
Hannibal wrapped a blanket around Will. He sat him down. Then Hannibal walked into the kitchen and to the sink until he stared at what is in the sink with stunned silence. Will sat in the living room with Clarice standing next to him, silent as he looked into middle-distance.  
  
"I don’t remember going to bed last night. But I must have. Maybe I got up to let the dogs out and I..." Will said.  
  
"When did you last see Abigail?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I woke up and my feet were muddy." Will said.  
  
"Will." Hannibal said. "When did you last see Abigail?"  
  
"Yesterday. At her father’s cabin. I had an episode. She said something was wrong with me. She was afraid of me. She ran away." Will said.  
  
"What happened? Why was she afraid?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"I hallucinated. I hallucinated that I killed her. But it wasn’t real. I know it wasn’t real." Will said. He looked at Hannibal, desperate, terrified. Clarice kneeled next to him and gently took his hand, squeezing gently. Hannibal is saddened, concerned. He kneeled next to Will.  
  
"Will, we have to call Jack Crawford. You can’t run from this. It will only make things worse." Hannibal said then off Will’s slow nod. "Get dressed."

\----  
  
Hannibal stood patiently next to the door observing the perimeter FBI agents and local police have established while Clarice stood a little away from him, arms crossed over her chest as she stared off into the distance. Among the FBI and animal services vehicles was Brian, Beverly and Jimmy patiently waiting.  
  
Jack stood with two FBI agents, surrounded by the dogs. Will sat, still stunned, in his overstuffed chair.  
  
"What are we going to find when we go to Minnesota, Will?" Jack asked.

Will searched for an answer he doesn’t have, then admitted, "I don’t know."

Jack studied Will, his broken pony, then turned to an agent and said, "Process him."

The door swung open revealing Hannibal and Clarice still standing on the porch, a sadly stoic expression on his face. While Clarice's face freely expressed her sadness and worry as she turned to face the door.  
  
Will was in handcuffs, the two FBI agents at his side. Jack followed Will out, but stopped on the porch with Hannibal and Clarice. Jack nodded to his team and the animal control officers and FBI agents, including Zeller, Price and Katz, get to work, picking up their gear.  
  
Zeller, Price and Katz move into his home with evidence collection kits, their expressions dour. They look at Will, then look away. Beverly looked back, making eye contact. Will held her gaze for a moment then has to look away.  
  
Will is marched across the front yard by the two FBI agents. They led him to an FBI vehicle. One of the Agents opened the back door while the other Agent tucked Will’s head and pushed him into the back seat and shut the door.  
  
FBI agents are removing evidence boxes from his home. Two animal handlers are leading the dogs out of the house on leashes. Winston broke free and ran toward Will. A handler grabbed Winston’s collar and dragged him away towards the dog van Winston barked and whinnied, looking back at Will.  
  
He watched in anguish as Winston is dragged off. And as the S.U.V. he’s in pulled away from his home.  
  
Hannibal and Jack are inside Will’s house behind them, flashbulbs going off as Will’s living room is turned into a crime scene.  
  
Being driven away, Will leaned his head against the window, his home and dogs and life receding into the distance.

Clarice is the only one left standing on the patio as she watched the S.U.V. that Will is in recedes into the distance. She then turned around and looked into Will's house, silent and sad.

Then she walked off the patio and got into her car, where she sat in so she could cry in private...  
  
**B.A.U. - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY**

In t-shirt and boxers, Will stands in the brightly lit, sterile space on a white paper mat. Staring straight ahead. He handed his pants to Jimmy who bagged them. His shirt and his right and left shoes are stacked on a nearby table in three separate, appropriately labelled evidence bags. His eyeglasses and watch are also bagged and tagged. Jimmy holds Will’s khakis with one gloved-hand and dug through the pockets with another. Zeller logged the evidence next to an operational video camera. It is painfully awkward for them all. Will stared in silence.  
  
"Right rear pocket. One leather wallet containing 17 dollars cash." Jimmy said.  
  
"Right rear pocket. One leather wallet 17 dollars cash." Brian repeated.

Jimmy dipped a hand into another pants pocket. Removes keys.

"Front left pocket. Key ring. Two keys. House and car." Jimmy said.  
  
"Front left pocket. Key ring. Two keys. House and car." Brian repeated.

Jimmy checked the other pocket. Finds a pocket knife.  
  
"Front right pocket. Folding knife." Jimmy said.

He handled the small folded knife carefully, examining the knife handle, a smudged fingerprint in what might be blood.  
  
"Front right pocket. Folding knife." Brian repeated.

Zeller grabbed a new evidence bag, dropped the knife inside.

Will is still staring straight ahead under this...

\--  
  
Will stood in his underwear alone with Beverly who is scraping under his nails with a small tool. A dull red residue falls onto the white paper. They’ve both seen it often enough to know what it is. Blood.

The file slide under his nail and the red flakes fall onto the paper...  
  
He watched the dusting of blood fall from under his nail. Beverly is looking at Will. Struggling with the situation.  
  
"I can’t do the silent treatment. I can’t pretend I don’t know you and I can’t pretend we don’t both know what I’m finding under your nails." Beverly said. Will remained silent, in numb shock. "You called me once because you didn’t trust yourself to know what was real. This blood is real, Will."  
  
"I know." Will said.  
  
"Do you know how it got there?" Beverly asked.  
  
"Not with certainty, no." Will said.  
  
"Certainty comes from the evidence. I didn’t want to find any evidence on you. I wanted to be certain about who you are. But you can’t even be certain about yourself." Beverly said.  
  
"Not anymore." Will said.  
  
"If you weren’t certain about yourself, then you shouldn’t have been here. This is the FBI." Beverly stated.  
  
"I thought I would get better." Will said.  
  
"How long have you been lying about what’s going on with you?" Beverly asked.  
  
"I wasn’t lying..." Will started to said.  
  
"You knew your state of mind. You should have recused yourself from any investigation. You were irresponsible and a girl is dead." Beverly said as she stepped back from him. Angry with him. "However far over the edge you were leaning, I was hoping that you wouldn’t fall." Will looked at her, hating this. Not wanting to face it. "You always said all you do is interpret the evidence. So do it, Will. Interpret the evidence."  
  
"According to the evidence..." Will fought with what he wanted versus what he thought. Finally a whispered, horrible realization. "I killed Abigail Hobbs."

**F.B.I. ACADEMY - JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE - DAY**

Alana listened to Jack as he told her what they had found, "We analyzed the tissue. It matched Abigail Hobbs. It was her ear. Her blood was under Will’s fingernails. Scratches on his arms look like defensive wounds. She fought back...."  
  
"Shut up." Alana said she is struggling with this information, tears welling. She pushed them back. Finally she can’t hear another word. "Just stop talking." It comes out more of as a plea as opposed to anything hostile. A long beat of silence, both of them stressed, neither of them above succumbing to the pressure of it. "....“He won’t. Get too close.” You said you would cover him. You could see he was breaking."  
  
"Yes, I could. And I kept pushing him because he was saving lives." Jack said.  
  
"Not Abigail Hobbs’ life." Alana said. "And where was Clarice Starling?"   
  
"Look me in the eye and tell me you couldn’t see he was breaking." Jack said. "I don't know...she hasn't been talking since Will was brought in. And I will be the one to talk to her." He added the last as he eyed Alana.  
  
"Of course I could see it. I told you not to put him out there." Alana said.  
  
"Every decision I made about Will Graham’s mental health was under the advisement of a respected psychiatrist, who you recommended." Jack said.  
  
"Hannibal had to know. He had to see something was wrong." Alana said.  
  
"Not until it was too late. Just like the rest of us." Jack said. "Hannibal said Will was exhibiting signs of dementia."  
  
"Dementia isn’t a disease, it’s a symptom of disease. We have to find out what’s causing it and treat it." Alana said.  
  
"The concern is that there may not be anything to treat. Will had a brain scan. They found nothing." Jack said.  
  
"This started with Garret Jacob Hobbs." Alana said.  
  
"Maybe Will did what Garret Jacob Hobbs couldn’t do. Kill his daughter." Jack said.  
  
"Abigail’s blood is on all of us." Alana said. "And so is Will’s."  
  
**FBI PARKING LOT - ALANA BLOOM’S CAR - DAY**

Alana is behind the wheel of her car, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles as she lets out her frustration and anger and sadness.

**B.A.U. - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY**

Will sat at a table in his jump suit. Alana entered. She can’t hide her distress at seeing him this way. And he can’t hide his relief at seeing her walk through the door.  
  
"Hi." Will said.  
  
"Hi." Alana said.  
  
"You’re flushed. You been yelling?" Will asked.  
  
"Screaming is more like it." Alana said.  
  
"I could use a good scream. I can feel one. Perched under my chin." Will said.  
  
"Let it out." Alana said.  
  
"I’m afraid if I started, I...wouldn’t be able to stop." Will said. "I’m surprised Jack let you in here. Given my romantic overtures."  
  
"Jack doesn’t know about your romantic overtures. Didn’t know." Alana said. She self-consciously glances at the two-way mirror.  
  
**BEHIND THE TWO-WAY MIRROR**

Jack shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He probably shouldn't have sent Clarice home despite the fact that she had been too distressed to properly talk to him but he had no choice, he needed to know what happened during that trip and Clarice was probably the only person who knew what had taken place other than Will.

~~~~~~~

Alana looked at Will, who averted his eyes.  
  
"Guess you dodged a bullet with me." Will said.  
  
"I don’t feel like I dodged a bullet. I feel wounded." Alana said.  He slide his hand out, but caught himself and withdrew. Will glanced self-consciously at the two-way mirror. "Been in touch with Animal Services. I’m going to pick up your dogs in a couple of hours. I’ll bring them back home with me and take care of them until... whenever."  
  
"Are you sure? Whenever could be a long time from now." Will said.  
  
"I’ll take care of them until then." Alana said.  
  
"Thank you." Will said.  
  
"We have to do some tests. They’ll be the standard psychopathology tests. Thematic Apperception. Minnesota Multiphasic." Alana said.  
  
"Suppose you’re going to ask me to draw a clock while you’re at it." Will said.  
  
"Hannibal ask you to draw a clock?" Alana asked.  
  
"Said it was an exercise to help ground me in a present moment. A handle to reality to hold onto." Will explained.  
  
"Was the clock normal?" Alana asked.  
  
"Would I be here if it wasn’t?" Will asked.

Now Alana’s interest is raised. Her antenna humming. She pulled out pen and paper and slide it across the table, saying, "Draw me a clock."

Will took the pen and paper and started to draw a clock. But to him he drew a normal clock. To Alana, her dawning horror as she watched Will draw a clock with all of the numbers and hands stacked on one side. Dahli-esque. Just like he did before with Hannibal. Will turned the picture and slide it to her.  
  
"See. Just a normal clock. Telling the time isn’t my problem." Will said.

Alana looked at Will with growing dread, "It’s the least of your problems."

The truth of that weighs on them both.

**HOBBS RESIDENCE - DAY**

A Minnesota patrol car pulled up to the house.  
  
The front door opened to reveal two local cops, guns at the ready. They make their way down the hall. One tried the light switch but the power is dead. They move to the Kitchen doorway. They flash their flashlights, scanning the room. And the beams pick up splashes and sprays of blood, slick black in the shuttered gloom, turning red in the beams. The floor is covered in a pool of blood. The two cops hold on the charnel scene and stare...


	39. Chapter 39

**Savoureux Part 2**

**BEDELIA’S HOME OFFICE - DAY**

Bedelia sat quietly with Hannibal, who stared into middle distance. Neither of them say a word at first.

Hannibal's eyes brim with tears finally he said, "Despite the overwhelming evidence, I still find myself searching for ways Abigail could still be alive."  
  
"Grieving is an individual process with a universal goal. The truest examination of the meaning of life and the meaning of its end." Bedelia said.  
  
"I know what life means." Hannibal said. She watched Hannibal, silently, never pushing him to speak. "We’ve existed for 100,000 years. In that time 100 billion human lives have had beginnings and endings."  
  
"100,000 lives haven’t impacted yours. Clearly Abigail Hobbs’ life has and that seems to surprise you." Bedelia said.

He can’t deny it, it weighed on him, "I never considered having a child. But after meeting Abigail, I understood the appeal. The opportunity to guide and support, and in many ways, direct a life."  
  
"You were having influence on her?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"I was hoping I was." Hannibal said.  
  
"Young people are supposed to be the lenses through which we see ourselves living beyond this life." Bedelia said.

Hannibal considered that, not necessarily agreeing, "I think of my earliest memory and project forward to what I imagine will be my death. I never think about living beyond that span of time. Except by reputation."  
  
"Even after this loss?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"More so after this loss." Hannibal said.  
  
"Will Graham is a loss, too. You have to grieve him as a loss." Bedelia said.  
  
"I haven’t given up on Will." Hannibal said.  
  
"If he is found guilty of killing Abigail Hobbs..." Bedelia started to say.  
  
"When. Let’s be honest." Hannibal said.  
  
"I don’t recommend you participate in any rehabilitation effort." Bedelia said.

Hannibal remains thoughtful a moment, then he said, "I was so confident in my ability to help Will, to solve him..."  
  
"To save him." Bedelia said.  
  
"Trying to save him, I lost Abigail. It’s hard to accept that I could fail them both so profoundly." Hannibal said.

Bedelia studying Hannibal’s regret then she asked, "How is Clarice Starling taking this?"

"No one knows, she hasn't been answering any calls." Hannibal admitted.

"As her friend, how do you think she take this?"

"...She'll be in denial and try to find someway to prove his innocence." Hannibal said.

**Clarice's Brick House**

"That's it...no more feeling sad about what's happening." Clarice said as she stood in her bedroom. "I need to get out and find evidence that proves that Will didn't kill Abigail." Then she walked into her bathroom and showered, she quickly got dressed and pulled her hair back into a high pony tail. Then she grabbed her jacket, purse and keys before she headed down stairs.

"You two be good and attack anyone who tries to break in!" She ordered her two pets before leaving the house.

**B.A.U. - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY**

A display of the de-constructed lures on a white sheet of paper. Jack and Alana are with Zeller, Price and Katz.  
  
"Will was a fisherman. He tied all of his own lures." Jack said.  
  
"Most anglers use feathers, twine, fur, bits of shell. Designing their flies to catch specific fish." Jimmy said.

Beverly displayed a lure and said, "This one caught my eye. I noticed the hair color. Took me a few to accept what I was seeing. I ran a chem-set to confirm the connection."  
  
"What connection?" Alana asked.  
  
"Four of the lures are made from materials including human remains." Beverly said.  
  
Alana is stunned. Jack Crawford has heard many strange things in his career, but this one required a beat to process.  
  
"We have DNA matches on all of them." Jimmy said.

As Beverly explained, she displayed her grisly discoveries, "This one is Cassie Boyle. Bits of bone fragments and pieces of lung." She displayed another. "Marissa Schuur. Antler velvet, a fingernail, wound with her hair." Beverly displayed another. "Doctor Sutcliffe. Crushed teeth, soft tissue from inside his mouth, bound with cartilage from his jaw."  
  
"All victims of the Copy Cat?" Jack asked.  
  
"Other lure was made with hair and fiber matched to Georgia Madchen." Jimmy said.  
  
"He kept trophies from his victims." Brian said.  
  
"Trophies. Now Will Graham is a serial killer taking trophies?" Jack asked.  
  
"Something is wrong with Will, physically, neurologically. He’s not a serial killer." Alana said.  
  
"Abigail’s just his latest victim. Must’ve been working together. She was probably going to expose him." Brian said as Jimmy and Beverly glare at him but is unrepentant. "We let the fox into the chicken coop. And he played us all."

Jack Crawford wincing at that horrible possibility...

"Will didn't do it, he's being framed, Zeller." A voice snapped from the doorway. "And you never did like Will either so of course, you'd say that."

They looked towards the direction of the voice to see Clarice standing there with her arms crossed, she simply glared at Brian before she turned and walked away from them. Her body tight with anger and worry as she walked away, her legs taking her further and further away from them.

Looked like they believed what the 'evidence' was telling them.

So be it, she could do this by herself...

 **B.A.U. - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY**  
  
Jack walked grimly down the corridor.  
  
Will sat alone in the interrogation room.

A muffled clicking sound can be heard. Faint, but getting louder. Will looked to the two way mirror. The muffled hoof steps draw closer and closer. Will stood from the table and crosses to the mirror, cupping his hands to see through it. Nothing. Just the dark reflection of his eyes. Then a silhouette raised from the darkness behind the mirror, as if made from it. The antlered man, Will’s personal Devil. As Will shuddered with horror...  
  
Will is sitting back at the table, staring absently at the two way mirror. He realized not only did he not get up and cross to the mirror because of his shackles, but now Jack is sitting opposite him, his face slack with worry. A tiny startle from Will. He was off in a nightmare when Jack walked into the room and sat opposite him.  
  
"You’re sick, Will." Jack said.  
  
"I wasn’t consistent with taking my antibiotics. My fever came back." Will said.  
  
"We’re going to move you to a secure medical ward where we will find out what’s wrong with you. And get you the treatment you need." Jack said.  
  
"And then what? Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane? Have Chilton fumbling at my head?" Will asked.

Jack analyzed Will, hoping for any confirmation of something.  
  
"This job doesn’t generally lend itself to optimism. I desperately want to be optimistic about an alternative to what every fiber of evidence is telling me you did." Jack said.  
  
"I can’t confess to something I don’t remember." Will said.  
  
"Question is, how much more is there that you don’t remember?" Jack asked. "We found your fishing lures."  
  
"I should hope so. They were on my desk next to the front door." Will said.  
  
"We found human remains in the materials you used to make them. Cassie Boyle. Marissa Schuur. Donald Sutcliffe. Georgia Madchen." Jack said.

Will’s mind reeled, he shook his head, unable to accept what Jack Crawford is telling him, "No. I wasn’t sick when Cassie Boyle was murdered. I wasn’t sick when Marissa Schuur was murdered."  
  
"That’s not an argument you want to be making right now. Not to me." Jack said.  
  
"Because then I’d be a psychopath." Will said.  
  
"My biggest fear is learning you knew what you were doing all along." Jack said.  
  
"Don’t have to be afraid of that, Jack. But there is something you should be afraid of and that’s whoever is doing this to me." Will said.  
  
"Someone is doing this to you? Is that what this is? A set up?" Jack asked.  
  
"They’ll be close to you. It could be someone here. Working with you. They know the cases. They know forensics. They know I’m unstable." Will said.  
  
"Do you hear how paranoid you sound?" Jack asked can't help but noticing how in sync the mentor and protege were even though their wording was different and tone. Clarice seemed to believe without a doubt that her mentor was innocent.

Will allowed himself a sad smile, not believing what he’s about to say, but also not knowing what to believe, "Or it could just be you. Then I’m pretty much screwed, aren’t I?

Jack’s heart breaking at the state of Will of mind...

~~~~~

Will, now in irons, is being shuffle-walked to an ambulance by a paramedic and a guard. Jack looks on, despairing. Will looks out at Jack as he is stepped up into the ambulance. Hold their look till the doors slam closed.  
  
The moving ambulance. Will is sitting back on the gurney. His cuffs round the gurney rail and fastened. Will is watching the solitary guard opposite him. He glances away with trepidation, he knows what he has to do, but doesn’t want to do it. He steels himself.

Will looked down, took a deep breath and cracked his thumbs out of joint. A horrible shriek/groan of pain as he slide his broken hand from the cuff in one move. The guard looked up. Will turned on him with a mixture of malice, pain and regret. And lunged.  
  
**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY**

Hannibal stood with Jack and Alana, mid-conversation.  
  
"Broke his thumb getting out of the restraints. Disarmed his guard, threw him and the driver out of the vehicle. They found the ambulance in an alley in Dumfries. These are not the actions of an innocent man." Jack said.  
  
"They’re the actions of a man who is impaired. I had Will draw a clock to test for cognitive dysfunction." Alana said she placed Will’s Dali-Esque drawing of a clock on the desk.

Hannibal reacted to that, very concerned, "That’s extreme." He reached for his notebook and opened it revealing the drawing Will made in his office. "This is the clock Will drew for me two weeks ago. It’s normal."  
  
"What disease progresses gradually but plateaus for lengths of time?" Alana  
  
"Will has periods of clarity. We’ve seen him lucid and aware one moment and then the next moment he’s not." Hannibal said.  
  
"Could be some form of encephalitis." Alana said.  
  
"Autoimmune encephalitis. Body’s immune system attacks the brain as if it is itself an infection." Hannibal said.  
  
"It’s hard to diagnose. There are no tumors. No lesions. Wouldn’t show up on a brain scan unless you knew you were looking for it." Alana said.

Jack Crawford puts the train back on the tracks, "Just tell me if he could’ve killed five people and not known about it."

Neither Alana nor Hannibal can bring themselves to answer.  
  
"It’s unlikely." Hannibal said eventually.  
  
"Doesn’t feel like dementia. Feels like an intelligent psychopath. This killer called the Hobbs house, warned Abigail’s father. Hobbs then hung up the phone, killed his wife and cut his daughter’s throat." Jack said.  
  
"I was with Will that entire time." Hannibal said. "As was Clarice."  
  
"Did he have an opportunity to make a phone call?" Jack asked.   
  
"At the construction site. Before we went to interview Garret Jacob Hobbs. Will was in the office while I was outside loading the car with files, but he was only in there a minute or two." Hannibal said.  
  
"Dumb luck and bad bookkeeping. It’s how Will said he caught Hobbs. How would you say he caught Hobbs?" Jack asked. "I'l have to question Clarice, just to make sure."

Hannibal glanced at Alana, as if to prepare her for what’s coming, "We were looking through the files and it was as if Will plucked his name out of a hat, based on little more than an incomplete address." He didn't react when Jack said he'd talk to her to see if their stories will match...he knew that they wouldn't.  
  
"That’s what Will does. He makes those kinds of leaps." Alana said.  
  
"Allow me to play the devil, Dr. Bloom. This clock test. Would Will Graham know how to fake it?" Jack asked.

After a long moment, Alana finally answered, "Yes."

Alana is fighting the sad apparent “truth” of it all...

**ALANA BLOOM’S HOUSE - DAY**

The sound of a key in a lock, then it opened just a crack. Several snouts poke their way inside. Alana came through the door after Will's dogs, holding them all on two group leashes. The dogs pull until...  
  
"Tssst." Alana said. The dogs focus. "Sit." The dogs obey. Except for one. "Everyone." The final dog sits. Alana allowed herself a small, sad smile as she unfastened each of their collars from the lead. "Okay."

She gave them each a small treat. Alana shrugged off her coat and dropped her bag on the counter as the pack of dogs mill. She crossed to the refrigerator. Alana grabbed a beer and popped the cap. The dogs follow her. She took a deep sip and sighed. She rested the cold bottle against her forehead. She’s exhausted. Just as she had noticed the dogs have all trailed away...  
  
"Alana." Will's voice said.

Alana startled, dropping her bottle of beer. Will is now standing in the room with her, the dogs milling about, sniffing and greeting him with wagging tails.  
  
"Please don’t scream." Will said.  
  
"Wasn’t going to but you saying that sort of makes me think I should." Alana said.  
  
"I’ll stand over here if it makes you feel any safer." Will said.  
  
"It doesn’t. You can’t be here, Will. I can’t harbor you." Alana said.  
  
"I know. Just got a little confused. I needed to get my bearings." Will said. "It’s good to see the dogs. Thought I wasn’t going to see them again.  
  
"You have to go to a doctor. What’s happening to you can be treated. This disease. It’s attacking the way you think. Everything you’re feeling. The doubt, the confusion. It can all go away. If you let it." Alana said.  
  
"If I don’t find out who is doing this to me, I’ll be going away. They already think I did it. They’ll diagnose me with something and they’ll keep diagnosing me and they’ll keep being wrong." Will said.  
  
"I don’t know how to help you." Alana said.  
  
"I’m not a killer." Will said.

She picked up her car keys from the counter and offered them, "Take my car. It’s parked on the street. But please, Will, you’ve got to go to a hospital."

Will took the car keys, sad and disappointed. He considered them a moment, then handed them back to Alana.  
  
"You were pretty slick about that." Will said. "You just unlocked your car doors, didn’t you? Flashed the lights? They’ll be waiting for me outside."  
  
"If there was somebody out there, wouldn’t they already be coming through the door?" Alana asked.  
  
"No, they wouldn’t. Because they know I could kill you before they got up those stairs." Will said. The reality of that hangs in the air, then. "Goodbye, Alana."

He quietly moved toward the back door, disappearing down the hall. Alana waited there a moment, afraid to move. She realized she stopped breathing and takes a jagged breath.  
  
**HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY**

Hannibal worked at his desk in his darkened office. Then he said, "Hello, Will." He then continued. "How are you feeling?"

Will is up on the landing, tucked in the corner and said, "Self aware."  
  
"You frightened Dr. Bloom." Hannibal said.  
  
"She’s confused about who I am, which I can relate to." Will said. "Are you confused about who I am?"  
  
"I’m not confused. I’m skeptical. Meaning I’m willing to change my mind should the evidence change." Hannibal said.  
  
"Do you believe I killed Abigail?" Will asked.  
  
"I believe it’s entirely possible, if not nearly indisputable based on how you discovered her ear." Hannibal said.  
  
"If it was just Abigail, I would have believed. I would have believed I got so far inside Hobbs’ head, I couldn’t get out." Will said.  
  
"But it wasn’t just Abigail." Hannibal said.  
  
"I know who I am." Will said.  
  
"All sense of who you are has been distorted by your illness. You know who you are in this moment. That isn’t always the case." Hannibal said.  
  
"I didn’t kill any of them. Someone is making sure no one believes me." Will said.

Hannibal sighs, debating how to best help his friend, "If we’re to prove you didn’t commit these murders, perhaps we should consider how you could have." Then he adds. "And then disprove that."  
  
Will sits opposite Hannibal, a session like any other save for the fact that Will is wearing a prison jumpsuit.  
  
"If you are this killer, that identity runs through these events like a thread through pearls. Cassie Boyle would have been your first victim. You said her crime scene was practically gift wrapped." Hannibal said.

The crime scene in the darkened shadows of the room as if in the recesses of Will’s mind: Cassie Boyle mounted on the stag head, all of it painted black.  
  
"It told me everything I needed to know to catch Garret Jacob Hobbs." Will said.

As Hannibal speaks, Will can see out of the corner of his eye, movement near the crime scene, a separate and distinct dark shape with antlers, prowling near Cassie Boyle’s body.  
  
"You’d seen one of Hobbs’ victims, you knew how he killed. You may have been exploring how he killed to better understand who he was." Hannibal said.  
  
"I wasn’t in Minnesota when Cassie Boyle was murdered." Will said.  
  
"She disappeared on a Saturday. Found her on a Monday. You would’ve had the weekend to do your work." Hannibal said.  
  
"I know I didn’t kill her." Will said.  
  
"How do you know?" Hannibal asked. Will’s mind spins for an answer. Hannibal doesn’t allow him to articulate it, continuing to draw a psychological picture as another crime scene in the room: Marissa Schuur mounted on antlers, all of it painted black. "What did you think when you first met Marissa Schuur? How much like Abigail she was? Same height, same weight, same hair color, same age."

Will gallows and said, "How could I resist?"

The black antlers around Marissa Schuur move revealing the inhuman silhouette of the dark shape, only now it becomes clear it is the man stag that haunted Will’s nightmare.  
  
"So much like his daughter, you may have wondered why Garret Jacob Hobbs didn’t kill her himself." Hannibal said. Will fights the confusion, sickened by it. Another crime scene behind Hannibal’s desk: Dr. Sutcliffe nearly decapitated at the jaw. Painted black. "Dr. Sutcliffe wasn’t killed how Garret Jacob Hobbs killed. He was murdered how you imagined yourself murdering a woman only days before."  
  
"How Georgia Madchen killed. She said she dreamt I killed Sutcliffe. But she couldn’t see my face." Will said. "And then she was murdered."  
  
"You catch these killers, Will, by getting into their heads, but you also let them into yours." Hannibal said. Black antlers rise in the darkness behind Hannibal, the man stag taking shape from the shadow. It has Hannibal’s face. Will winces at the image in his head, shaking it off. "I’m trying to help you, Will."  
  
"Then take me back to Minnesota. I want to see where Abigail died." Will said.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at the epilogue for notes...

**Savoureux Part 3**

**HANNIBAL’S CAR - NIGHT**

Hannibal drove, windshield wipers thumping rhythmically as rolls rain off in sheets. He glanced over at Will who dozed fitfully in the passenger seat.  
  
**BEDELIA’S HOME OFFICE - MORNING**

Jack Crawford and Alana Bloom are questioning Bedelia.  
  
"You had any contact with Hannibal Lecter in the last 24 hours?" Jack asked.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"I’m on my way to Minnesota. I believe Will Graham has taken Hannibal Lecter there. Or Hannibal Lecter has taken Will Graham." Jack said.  
  
"Implying Hannibal went willingly with an escaped murder suspect?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"Would Dr. Lecter put himself in danger to help Will?" Jack asked. Bedelia stares at Jack, strange to hear the allegation aloud. "We’re not suspecting Hannibal of doing anything criminal."  
  
"Hannibal knows Will is sick. If he had any control of the situation, he would get him to a hospital." Alana said.  
  
"I could imagine Hannibal taking Mr. Graham to Minnesota if he thought Abigail Hobbs was still alive." Bedelia said.  
  
"We haven’t found her body." Alana said. "Neither of them can accept Abigail is dead. Will because he can’t accept he’s killed her and Hannibal because he can’t accept Will could."  
  
"Or he’s trying to prove Will could." Bedelia said.  
  
"Will could kill Hannibal and not even know he was doing it." Alana said.  
  
"If anyone could’ve helped Will Graham, it would’ve been Hannibal. In fact, he may still be trying." Bedelia said.

Jack eyed Bedelia, still unsettled about the situation. Alana can see his distress.

**HOBBS RESIDENCE - DAY**

Hannibal’s Bentley pulled into the driveway, Hannibal behind the wheel. Will Graham in the passenger seat. Hannibal and Will get out of the car and head into the house. Even though the car has been turned off, the purr of the Bentley's engine continues to haunt Will beneath the picture and carry on into and throughout the next scene.  
  
Will enters. He walks cautiously down the hall, Hannibal no longer behind him. He walked into  **Breakfast time. Louise Hobbs is cooking eggs, Garret Jacob Hobbs helping her prep. Abigail sets the table. It’s the moment before everything in Abigail Hobbs’ life changed. Will Graham stands in the room, watching the scene.**  
  
**The phone rings. It startles Will. A sense of dread as Abigail crosses to the phone and answers it.**  
  
**"Hello? Just a second." Abigail answered. "Dad, it’s for you."**  
  
**"Who is it?" Garret Jacob Hobbs asked.**  
  
**"Caller i.d. said it was blocked." Abigail said.**

 **She hands her father the phone and as he raises it to his ear, Garret Jacob Hobbs is now Will Graham. Will puts the receiver to his ear. The pervasive purr of Hannibal’s Bentley engine suddenly stops.**  
  
**"Hello?" Will said.**  
  
"Will?" Hannibal's voice said.  
  
"Yes." Will said.  
  
"We’re here..." Hannibal's voice said.  
  
Will opened his eyes. 

Hannibal sat in the driver’s seat;  the car cooling and pinging. Will took a deep breath and heaved a sigh as he opened his car door and climbed out.  
  
The sliding glass door slowly rolled open and Will and Hannibal enter. They move cautiously through the room. Will turned and saw Hannibal standing behind him, a familiarity to their placement in the room takes him to...  
  
**Will stands where he is now, Hannibal in the same position, only Alana, Clarice and Abigail are also present. Abigail asks, "Are we going to re-enact the crime?" She looked to Will and Alana. "You be my dad. You be my mom." And to Hannibal. "And you be the man on the phone."**

 **Hannibal is caught off guard. More so by Abigail’s steely nonchalant stare that follows her comment.**  
  
Realization dawning, Will dared to stare at Hannibal only briefly before averting his eyes and turning away.  
  
"Are we going to re-enact the crime?" Will asked  
  
"If it would help you." Hannibal said.  
  
"It may come to that." Will said.

Will shrink into the shadows of the house. Hannibal follows. The house is cold. Will and Hannibal climb the stairs to the main floor. Will paused, bracing himself, as he moved into: the Kitchen is empty. Blood stains everywhere. A processed crime scene. Forensic markers etc.  
  
Will stared and stepped into the room. He bowed his head, his face crumpled with emotion. He took a breath and then looked up again.  
  
"It’s as if Abigail was supposed to die in this kitchen. Nothing we did was able to change that." Hannibal said he is as horrified by the room as Will, feigning as though he is seeing it for the first time. Will looked at the arterial spray on the wall, deeply saddened.  
  
"Her throat was cut. She lost great gouts of blood and there’s an unmistakable arterial spray..." Will stopped himself, unable to speak for a moment.  
  
They haven’t found her body." Hannibal said.  
  
"Just the one piece." Will said.  
  
"If you were in Garret Jacob Hobbs’ frame of mind when you killed her, they may never find her body." Hannibal said.  
  
"Cause I honored every part of her?" Will asked.  
  
"Perhaps you didn’t come here looking for a killer. Perhaps you came here to find yourself. You killed a man in this very room." Hannibal said.  
  
"I stared at Hobbs and the space opposite me assumed the shape of a man filled with dark and swarming flies. And then I scattered them." Will said.  
  
"At a time when other men first see and fear their isolation, yours has become understandable to you. You are alone because you are unique." Hannibal said.  
  
"I’m as alone as you are." Will said.  
  
"If you followed the urges you kept down for so long, cultivated them as the inspirations they are, you’d become someone other than yourself." Hannibal said.  
  
"I know who I am. I’m not so sure I know who you are anymore. But I am certain one of us killed Abigail." Will said as he raises his gun and steadies it at Hannibal.  
  
"Are you a killer, Will? You. Right now. This man in front of me. Is this who you really are?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"You called here that morning. Abigail knew. You kept her secrets until she found out some of yours." Will stated.

Hannibal eyed the gun in Will’s hand and said, "You said it felt good to kill Garret Jacob Hobbs, Will. Would it feel good to kill me now?"  
  
"Garret Jacob Hobbs was a murderer. Are you a murderer, Dr. Lecter?" Will said and then asked.  
  
"What reason would I have?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"You have no traceable motive, which is why you were so hard to see. You were just curious what I would do. Someone like me. Someone who thinks how I think. Wind him up and watch him go. Apparently, Dr. Lecter, this is how I go." Will said betrayed and confused, Will’s finger tensed on the trigger. Jack Crawford enters, gun drawn, sees Will is preparing to shoot Hannibal, and in a terrible re-enactment, shot Will. A bullet slammed into Will’s shoulder and he is knocked against the counter, slide down it. Right where Garret Jacob Hobbs died. Blood flecked Hannibal’s face and shirt. Jack came forward, still holding his smoking weapon. He kicked the gun from Will’s loose fingers. Looked down at the bleeding Will with anguish. Will looked up at Jack and Hannibal. Will held Jack’s gaze. "See? See?"

His vision began to dim and lose focus, as it does Hannibal blurred and shifted into the blackened man stag...

Will's eyes are closed. He is on a gurney.

The gurney is being moved to an ambulance by paramedics Jack is moving behind it, concerned. Hannibal, who watched Will being put in the ambulance. Flecks of blood still on his face...

The gurney is rushed into the ambulance and the doors are pulled closed on Jack Crawford. The ambulance pullrf away, lights flashing. Leaving Jack to watch it go and then he turned to Hannibal. Their eyes meet.  
  
**HOSPITAL - ER - NIGHT**

As an ER team work on Will, his clothes have been pulled away. A doctor is cleaning the bullet wound in his shoulder. The wound is ugly and red. A blood bag goes up on a stand. A needle is slid into the crook of Will’s elbow. Monitoring machines start to bleep. A bloom of blood in the barrel of an I/V needle as Will is injected with drugs. Another I/V bag - antibiotics, slid into his other arm. Finally - wide angle - from the foot of the bed. Will, unconscious, drips and drugs and machines working on his behalf...

Will sleeps in a hospital bed. Wired up to drips and monitors.  
  
Jack is coming down the hospital corridor. He walked down the corridor and into Will’s room.

Will unconscious in the bed. Two chairs pulled up by the bed. Hannibal sat in one, eyes on Will. He looked up as Jack entered, Jack took the other seat.  
  
"Right hemisphere of his brain was inflamed. Been placed in an induced sleep. He’s being treated with antiviral and steroid therapies." Hannibal said.  
  
"Is he responding?" Jack asked.  
  
"More or less. He’s expected to make a substantial recovery. Over time."

Jack looked at Will in his comatose state, then asks, "Would you have gone to Minnesota if he didn’t have a gun on you?"  
  
"I would have wanted to." Hannibal said. "Even now I feel that I’ve failed to satisfy my obligation to Will.  
  
"Any regrets?" Jack asked.  
  
"More than I would care to admit. Psychiatrists can have divided loyalties. We have to protect our patients from becoming victims of the pressures we face to help them." Hannibal said.  
  
"Will Graham isn’t your victim." Jack said.  
  
"Nor is he yours." Hannibal said.

Jack considered that, not so sure it’s the case, "In my life, I’ve seen some hideous and offhanded ways in which the world breaks people. This is worse than anything I’ve seen on the autopsy scales. What I experienced with Will Graham has caused in me a small tectonic shift. I am not the same man I was yesterday."  
  
"No one in this room is." Hannibal said.

Hannibal studied Jack Crawford’s regret, in the corridor where two FBI agents standing guard on either side.

Jack and Hannibal look towards the door just as Clarice entered the room, pulling up short when she saw them but mostly because the two agents had grabbed her arms. 

"It's okay...let her in." Jack said and Clarice jerked her arms out of their hold before they could even release her and she went straight to Will, gently slipped her hand into his and squeezing it.

"Starling, I want you to tell me what happened when you three were in Minnesota." Jack said as he moved to stand next to her.

At first it looked like she wasn't going to answer but then she said, her eyes still on Will, "Will and Abigail went to the cabin...he had told me to go shopping for dinner and that they'll be back soon. But I had lost track of time, not familiar with the town or store and when I got back to the cabin, no one was there...I called Will." Clarice squeezed his hand. "And he told me that he was at the airport...he sounded confused, like he couldn't remember how he got there."

"The evidence says that he killed Abigail Hobbs." Jack said.

Clarice still doesn't look at Jack and said, "I don't believe that, Jack..." And with that she removed her hand and walked out of the room, leaving Jack and Hannibal staring after her as she became smaller and smaller down the corridor.

**BEDELIA’S HOME OFFICE - NIGHT**

Bedelia opened the door revealing Hannibal holding a platter of food under a beautiful glass dome.  
  
"Good evening." Hannibal greeted.  
  
"Hello, Hannibal. Please come in." Bedelia said.  
  
A simple, elegant, well-appointed table with place settings for two. Bedelia poured Hannibal a glass of wine, then herself. Hannibal set a plate of magnificent food in front of Bedelia as she pulled up her chair to the table.  
  
"Tête de Veau en Sauce Verte." Hannibal said.  
  
"Smells like a bonfire." Bedelia said.  
  
"I smoked the veal on a pyre of dry hay. Imparts a unique smoldering flavor to the meat and to the room." Hannibal said.  
  
"This is an unexpected treat." Bedelia said.  
  
"Thank you for indulging me." Hannibal said.  
  
"You seemed like you needed to talk." Bedelia said.  
  
"And since you refuse invitations to my dinner table, this is the only way I could cook for you." Hannibal said.  
  
"What’s on your mind, Hannibal?" Bedelia asked.  
  
"I’m going to see Will tomorrow." Hannibal said.

She stared at him a moment, then through him, "As a patient or as a friend?"  
  
"As a farewell. Of sorts. Who I knew Will to be was an illusion." Hannibal said.  
  
"He’s created his own version of reality to help him make sense of what he saw and heard and felt." Bedelia said. "Have you seen Clarice Starling?"  
  
"And did." Hannibal said. "Yes, at the hospital..she doesn't believe he did it."  
  
"Thought Mr. Graham would finally be the patient who cost you your life." Bedelia said. "Did she say it?"  
  
"He didn’t cost me my life. He cost Abigail Hobbs her’s. Yes, she did." Hannibal said. "Your veal is getting cold."

Bedelia realized she hasn’t taken a bite, she cut into her meat. "It’s a controversial dish. Veal." She took a bite, savoring it. "Mmmm."  
  
"Those who denounce veal often cite the young age at which veal are killed, when they are in fact older than many pigs going to slaughter." Hannibal said.

Bedelia considered that, then brought the subject back, "You have to be careful, Hannibal. They started to see your pattern."  
  
"What pattern would that be?" Hannibal asked.  
  
"You form relationships with patients that are conducive to violence. That pattern." Bedelia said.  Hannibal goes still. "Under scrutiny, Jack Crawford’s beliefs about you could unravel."  
  
"Tell me, Dr. Du Maurier, have your beliefs about me begun to unravel?" Hannibal asked as he takes a bite of his veal and waits for her answer.

Bedelia not sure how to respond...  
  
**B.S.H.C.I. - CELL BLOCK - DAY**

The security gate opened with a clang, Clarice Starling stepped through and stopped. She looked around and straightened her jacket, she walked down the block. Ignoring the cat calls and wolf whistles that she had gotten from the inmates as she passed their cells.

She was only interested in one inmate and he was in the last cell of the block.

Will wore a B.S.H.C.I. jumpsuit. His cell bare except for bed and table.

They stared at each other through the safety barrier.

"Hello, Clarice."

"Hey, Will." 

Will looked around and said, "Thank you for coming..."

"No problem, it was the least that I can do." Clarice said. "What is it, Will?"

Will is silent before he moved closer to the barrier, motioning to Clarice to do the same. And after she looked around discreetly before she moved closer.

"I am only going to say this, Clarice because I know you can find your own answers." Will whispered. "But don't trust Doctor Hannibal Lecter...and don't be alone with him."

She stared at her mentor silently then she nodded her head in agreement.

\---

The cave-like cell on the high security block. The security gate opened and Hannibal Lecter stepped inside. He stopped and took in the surroundings. The smells. Straightened his tie. Hannibal walked down the block, aware of the inmates.

Will is in the last cell on the block. He wore a B.S.H.C.I. jumpsuit. His cell bare except for bed and table.  
  
They appraise each other through the safety barrier.  
  
"Hello, Will." Hannibal said.  
  
"Dr. Lecter." Will said.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's the end of the first story!!

**Epilogue**

Clarice felt like she was drowning in a pool of people who believed Will was a serial killer. She didn't even want to go to class anymore and why should she? Her mentor and friend was no longer there and she had a feeling that her application might be terminated because of what is happening with Will. Then she'll have to deal with people looking at her with pity or even worse accusing her of not seeing Will's true nature.

True Nature...yeah, right.

Will didn't kill Abigail or those other girls, the only person he had killed was Garret Jacob Hobbs and that was to save Abigail from her own father who was cutting her neck. She knew that he didn't and she was going to somehow prove it.

She heard nails clicking on the hardwood floor, heading towards her. Clarice looked up to see her black German Shepard walking towards, wagging his tail slightly. "Hey, Bishop." Clarice bent over and stroked his head, smiling. She was able to name her dog, she had hoped to introduce him to Will and have Bishop know who was allowed inside her room without her permission.

She had gotten Bishop from a private breeder that trained the dogs that worked in the police force. So Bishop knew how to attack intruders and how to take orders from his human partner.

Clarice stood up and stretched, "Mmm, time for a shower...and food." While she's been home, she'd be doing some house cleaning as well as some gardening to get her mind off what was happening with Will.

Her cell phone rang and she looked down at it, seeing that it was Dr. Lecter then she walked away from it to shower. She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone so why couldn't they get that hint and stop calling her?


End file.
